


Welcome to Fright Night!

by Thwipp_Thwipp



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampires, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Chrollo Lucilfer dresses like a mall goth, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Inspired by Fright Night, Kurapika is secretly into it, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sexual Tension, Vampire Sex, Vampires, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 54,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thwipp_Thwipp/pseuds/Thwipp_Thwipp
Summary: Kurapika Kurta’s new neighbour Chrollo Lucilfer is a strange one indeed – he cannot cook, he sleeps during the day and only comes out at night, he dresses like a mall-goth, oh, and he has an affinity for blood! In a town wracked by horror and tragedy, Kurapika discovers Chrollo’s deadly secret and vows to end his reign of terror once and for all - but Chrollo won’t be put to rest that easily. With a rising body-count and all the odds against him, will Kurapika escape the jaws of death and keep his friends safe?
Relationships: Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Kurapika
Comments: 273
Kudos: 528





	1. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now featuring beautiful fan-art by my Best Friend, Soul Mate, Most Amazing Person aprilwinks  
> her kurokura fanart is so sweet and lovely and just BEAUTIFUL. ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)  
> thank you!! (๑♡⌓♡๑)
> 
> and now featuring an AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL, and just JAW-DROPPINGLY GORGEOUS artwork inspired by this fic by the wonderfully, outrageously talented htmlres!!!!   
> please go take a look at their amazing pieces over on twitter - they are so insanely talented!   
> thank you so much for drawing this piece i am in awe of your artistry and incredible skills. °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

(by aprilwinks, AO3)

(by htmlres, twitter)

Unfortunately, it was _not_ a dark and stormy night. It was just a regular night in the Whale Island suburbs – with the sky black, but not in a way that would have really set the mood due to the light pollution from the packed in houses, the angry horns of the traffic, and the startling sound of domestic arguments and loud reality television broadcasting at ridiculous volumes. Nevertheless, Kurapika Kurta nestled back into his favourite armchair, with his legs tucked under each other, and a cup of black tea (strong enough to raise the dead) in one hand and a particularly well-loved copy of Bram Stoker’s _Dracula_ in the other. As for the aforementioned lack of atmosphere, well, he would just have to make-do with his imagination. Though, the single lit candle on the coffee table was certainly helping things.

His roommate Leorio was sleeping away the fatigue of an eight-hour shift at the hospital in the other room, snoring loudly. Which was a gift for once, because if Kurapika really tried, he could imagine the sound as the groans of the living dead or the call of a great supernatural beast advancing on their tiny house in the suburbs. It was beginning to feel positively spooky.

A loud horn blared and Kurapika very nearly fell off the armchair. With a great huff, he got up and peeked through the living-room curtains, hoping to catch a glimpse of the offending vehicle that had ruined his book. His annoyance was quickly replaced with surprise as he spotted a truck parked outside the front of the neighbouring house. There were workmen carrying furniture and boxes, and what appeared to be a man in a long, dark coat standing just outside the front door, shouting orders and directing them.

Someone was moving into the Nostrade house.

A shiver ran down Kurapika’s spine. He had rather liked Mr. Nostrade and his daughter, Neon, both of whom had always been friendly to him. Sure, Neon had occasionally thrown a deafening rager or two, but usually the house had remained quiet when the family had resided there. Past tense being the keyword. Not even a month ago, the whole neighbourhood had been rattled by the news that the Nostrades had been found brutally murdered in their own house. The police attending the scene had all come out of the house ashen faced. Whilst they had remained tight-lipped on the gruesome details, they had universally agreed that the crime scene was an unabashed bloodbath perpetrated by a pure sadist.

Kurapika wondered if the new owner knew about the murders. The real-estate agent must have had to disclose such information, or at the very least, the owner must have seen the news. Why, the news vans had been parked on the street for nearly two weeks, churning out equally macabre and tasteless theories as to the motivation of the killings. Both he and Leorio were forced to dodge reporters, as well as the occasional horror podcaster, for days on end. It was safe to say, the entire event had been unpleasant on multiple levels, not least being the fact that Kurapika now lived in fear that the murderer(s) would strike again, only this time, coming for Leorio and himself. Why anyone would move into the house this soon after the fact was a mystery in of itself.

With his evening now suitably ruined, Kurapika drew the curtains, put away his book, and went to bed.

* * *

It was not until the next day that Kurapika met his new neighbour. It was late afternoon and the sky was overcast with grey clouds hanging over ominously with the promise of rain later. Kurapika rolled up in his car and parked it on the driveway, surprised to see Leorio hanging near the hedge-fence and talking to their new neighbour, who was carrying a folded-up black umbrella under his arm.

Leorio waved him over, “Hey, Kurapika, come meet our new neighbour!”

With a heavy sigh, Kurapika hoisted his messenger bag further over his shoulder and came up beside Leorio to get a closer look. University had been tiring today and he wanted to get started on his new readings. But the curious side of him (and the side that insisted on basic politeness in greeting his new neighbour) wanted to know what kind of person moved into a house in the middle of the night. Clearly an insane one.

“Kurapika, this is our new neighbour Chrollo.” Leorio said with a smile, gesturing to the man standing on the other side of the hedge. A shiver ran down Kurapika’s spine. Their new neighbour was far too tall for Kurapika’s liking and seemed to leer over him, making him feel even shorter than he already was. His inky hair hung loosely over his ears and over the great bandage wrapped around his forehead, making him look remarkably like Frankenstein’s creation. The dark clothing hanging from his tall frame and the two swirling blackholes embedded into his face that must have been his eyes did not help veer against such a comparison. But what really had Kurapika taking a hesitant step back was the ever-present smile on the man’s face – everything about it was fake, fake, _fake_. As if he was privy to a joke at their expense.

Yes, this creep seemed like _exactly_ the type to move in in the middle of the night. Nevertheless, Kurapika stuck out his hand politely, just like his parents (may their souls rest in peace) had raised him: “Nice to meet you, I’m Kurapika.”

The hairs on the back of Kurapika’s neck stood to attention as Chrollo took his hand and shook it. Chrollo’s hand was big, and dwarfed his own, but the touch was nowhere near warm. It was impossibly cold, like his hand was being doused in a bucket of ice water.

“It’s my pleasure.” Chrollo replied, his voice rumbling like thunder, shaking Kurapika to the bone. He still had not let go of his hand. “My name is Chrollo Lucilfer, but please, just call me Chrollo.”

“As you like,” Kurapika said, snatching his hand back a bit too quickly. He ignored Leorio’s resulting frown in favour of the alarm bells blaring his brain. “Tell me, how did you find a moving company that would let you move furniture in the middle of the night?” Leorio made a visible movement, but Kurapika ignored him again.

Meanwhile, Chrollo’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline, “Oh, you saw that? My apologies if I woke you up.”

“No, not at all. I’m somewhat of a night-owl.” Kurapika said, still miffed. “I didn’t know moving companies worked that late.”

“They do if you pay them enough.”

“Kurapika,” Leorio said, laughing awkwardly, clearly restraining himself from snapping at his friend; “Chrollo here has moved for his job. He runs a big transit business! That’s cool, isn’t it?”

“Sure.”

Chrollo’s smile widened, his eyes now fixed on Kurapika and making him more uncomfortable by the second. If he was trying to intimidate him, then Kurapika was annoyed to say that it was working.

“I work nights – which is why I got all my furniture moved late too. If I’m awake during the day it just throws me right off my schedule. It helps when you run the moving company, of course.”

“I can appreciate that.” Kurapika replied, forced to look away from Chrollo’s unflinching gaze. What was this guy’s problem? “Leorio works as a nurse at the hospital up the road, so he’s always working strange hours.”

“Oh, and what do you do?”

“I’m still studying at university.” Kurapika replied, before hoisting his bag up his shoulder from where it had slipped down again. Chrollo tracked the movement with his eyes and more than ever, Kurapika wanted to shy away from that incredibly powerful gaze. “Speaking of, I really need to start on my readings. It was nice to meet you, Chrollo.”

“Likewise, Kurapika.” Chrollo called after him.

* * *

Kurapika had barely sat down on the couch before Leorio returned, a frown on his face. Avoiding eye contact, Kurapika continued to empty the contents of his bag on the coffee table. He had not been joking when he said he had plenty of reading to do. Just one of his classes required him to read three whole chapters of the assigned textbook for the week (and of course, the text was tiny and the author had clearly been using a thesaurus to sound as fancy as possible to perpetuate the infamous academic circle-jerk). He did not have time to suffer fools, much less his new goth neighbour.

“Okay, what was that?”

Leorio was looming over him with his hands parked on his hips disapprovingly.

“I don’t like him.” Kurapika replied simply. Surely Leorio got the same vibes? Honestly, if Chrollo had thrown up any more red flags, he could have passed for a country fete. Not to mention he looked like he had just walked out of a discount year-round Halloween store. Despite his handsome face, it honestly hurt to look directly at him because of his gaudy fashion sense.

“What? You don’t even know him yet.” Leorio pointed out, sitting down beside Kurapika on the couch. The chances of him escaping this conversation were now zero.

Kurapika rolled his eyes, “Then why ask me? He just gives me the creeps. Something’s off about that guy.”

“Fine, but promise me you’ll be polite?” Leorio said, clasping Kurapika’s shoulder gently. “Nothing is worse than bad neighbours. He could steal our mail or do noisy renovations if we’re not careful. Can you imagine him putting in a backyard pool, only to never finish it just to make us suffer? We’d never get to sleep again.”

A wry smile worked its way onto Kurapika’s face. Oh no. His one weakness. Leorio’s dorky sense of humour.

“There’s that smile!”

“Oh, shut up.”

* * *

As it turned out, Chrollo had not been lying when he had said that he worked at night. Nearly every day of the following week he would drive out in his black car in the early hours of the evening, and not return until sun-up the following morning. On the days he wasn’t working, he would presumably stay up the whole night, at least judging by the fact that he kept the lights on and the shadows passing by the window. None of this was a problem however, except for the increased build-up of cars on Chrollo’s driveway and outside his house, followed by what Kurapika could only assume was his friends dropping by at strange hours of the night. At times, the noise of their frequent get-togethers was enough to keep him awake, with some of his friends being far louder than humanly possible with their loud booming voices, strange music, and raucous partying. _Four nights._ Four nights that week, Kurapika had been woken up rudely by Chrollo’s friends. It was nearly as bad as the house filled with university students at the far-end of the street, who often threw wild parties, only luckily, Kurapika had the blessing of being nearly ten houses away (which meant their obscenely loud music was often only a dull thumping in the background).

On the most recent occasion, Kurapika very nearly marched over – dressed in his pyjamas, fluffy dressing gown, and slippers – to yell at them to SHUT UP, but the very moment he stepped outside of the house, he found that Chrollo’ and all of his friends had driven off somewhere, with only the smell of burning asphalt and the distinct smell of alcohol in the air to sooth his frustration.

That had been a few days ago. Since then, things had seemed to settle down, but Kurapika was still wary. Last night he had seen a few cars parked outside Chrollo’s house, but blessedly, he had not been woken up. Getting another good night’s sleep was forefront in Kurapika’s mind as he pulled up in his driveway, tired after university that morning and then a bout at the dojo with his teacher Izunavi in the afternoon. Though, as he sniffed the air, a shower was perhaps in order first - lessons at the dojo always made him work up a sweat.

As he dragged his work-out bag from the front-seat, he spotted Chrollo in his front garden with a great-black umbrella balanced over one shoulder, trimming the hedge that separated their houses with a pair of shears. It was an odd sight – Kurapika had never expected to see someone like Chrollo doing something mundane like landscaping. If it were anyone else, it would have appeared normal. But for whatever reason, it didn’t seem to fit him.

“Kurapika!” Chrollo called softly from across the driveway separating them, setting aside his garden shears to usher him over with a wave of his hand.

Hoisting his duffle bag to a more comfortable position on his back, Kurapika hesitated. Something about Chrollo made Kurapika’s stomach turn, but to refuse would be impolite. He could already see Leorio’s disappointed expression and cutting lecture. In his head, he could not think of one viable reason to refuse such an innocuous request as Chrollo just beckoning him over. So, with a sigh, he made his way over.

“It’s a lovely afternoon.” Chrollo said conversationally, as Kurapika came to a stop in front of him, nothing between them save the hedge that Chrollo had been delicately trimming.

Adjusting the towel around his neck, Kurapika frowned. What an odd sort of comment. The weather was overcast, and he could smell rain on the way (which, given the umbrella, surely Chrollo was aware of). Perhaps Chrollo was the romantic sort, who enjoyed stormy weather? Well, he was in agreeance with him on that point, so he merely said: “I do enjoy the rain.”

It was in that moment, that it happened. A soft smile slid onto Chrollo’s face, sending a jolt through Kurapika’s stomach. Oh. Oh, no.

“I wanted to tell you – I apologise if my friends have been overly-rambunctious. I hope their antics haven’t kept you up this week – they’ve been helping me move in, you see.”

Despite feeling somewhat flustered by this confrontation, Kurapika lied smoothly: “Not at all.”

Chrollo pressed a hand to his heart, looking placated: “Oh, thank goodness. They’ve promised to be more thoughtful in the future – in the interests of your beauty sleep, we shan’t bother you or Leorio anymore.”

“It’s no problem, honestly.” Kurapika said, shaking his head. Well, it _was_ a problem. But hopefully, given what Chrollo had just told him, it would not be anymore.

Then Chrollo bit his lip thoughtfully, hands worrying at the handle of his umbrella: “May I ask you something?”

“You may.” Kurapika felt it was getting more and more difficult to look Chrollo in the eye. Every time he did, he felt as if he were getting drowned in those icy, black depths.

“It occurred to me today, that I haven’t been very neighbourly.” Chrollo said, frowning ever so slightly as if such a modicum of impoliteness were bothering him to his very core. “In all my hastiness to get settled into the neighbourhood, I’ve quite forgotten my manners.”

Kurapika shook his head, “Not at all, Leorio and I are busy and I’m sure you are too.”

“Forgive my asking, but are you and Leorio…?”

Chrollo’s voice was light, but the question felt inexplicably loaded. Perhaps Kurapika was imagining it, but it seemed there was a tightness to Chrollo’s smile that had not been there before.

A laugh bubbled up in Kurapika’s throat. Leorio was one of his oldest friends. They had been friends for so long and knew each other so well in the ways that only friends can, that he could not imagine a romantic relationship with him. Sometimes he had wondered, but no feelings had ever manifested. Certainly, Leorio was a catch, but Kurapika had never thought of him that way – and he was sure that Leorio would be _very_ flustered at the very suggestion.

“No,” Kurapika said, laughing behind his hand. “No, he’s my best friend – like family, even.”

Chrollo nodded, his smile softer, “Good.”

A blush worked its way up Kurapika’s neck. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

“Well, I quite intend to correct my less-than neighbourly behaviour.” Chrollo said, leaning over the hedge on his elbows. “I plan to stay here for a while, and I would very much like for us to be friends.”

“Of course,” Kurapika said, his fingers nervously twisting at the towel hanging around his neck. Friends? He risked a look upwards, only to note the beads of sweat pooling at Chrollo’s collarbones and trickling down the pale muscle of his chest – no doubt a result of the gardening he was doing. Oh, no.

“I would like to invite you over for dinner.”

Kurapika’s stomach did a somersault that would have put an Olympic-level gymnast to shame.

“That sounds great.” Kurapika said, hoping he did not sound as eager as he felt.

“Is this Friday night convenient for you?”

Past the heat steadily building in his stomach and the panic blaring in his brain, Kurapika managed a weak nod. Dinner with his neighbour, who was inexplicably getting more attractive with each passing moment? That was certainly do-able, well, so long as Kurapika could carry a conversation without turning into a stuttering mess.

Chrollo grinned, flashing his disturbingly white teeth: “In that case, feel free to drop by any time after dark.”

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur of university classes, shifts at the library, and overstudying for Kurapika, and too-long shifts at the hospital for Leorio. True to Chrollo’s word, there was nary a peep from his house, though his friends still showed up in droves to visit him. Before Kurapika knew it, Friday had arrived and he was standing on the porch of the Nostrade house, with his hands clasped together awkwardly around a bouquet of cheerful flowers from their local grocer. Meanwhile, Leorio, dressed in the nicest (and only) suit he owned, had whipped up some of his famous apple Danishes and placed them in a Tupperware container. They had both agreed that flowers and pastries would be a good-enough “Welcome to the Neighbourhood” gift, at least one that would hopefully reveal their good intentions and desperate prayer that both households would get along. There had been an undeniable grain of truth in Leorio’s observation about the horrible awkwardness of having bad neighbours.

Feeling somewhat nervous, Kurapika tugged at the collar of his blue dress shirt peeping out over his cream-coloured cable-knit sweater. It wasn’t often that he and Leorio went out to parties, not to mention something as formal as a dinner-party, and to make matters all that more awkward, it would be with their neighbour whom they did not know all that well. Finding a way to break the ice would be the painful part. Still, he felt more comfortable with Leorio there as well (he could only imagine how poor Chrollo felt being alone).

When Chrollo swung open the door, his delighted mask cracked just the tiniest bit upon seeing the pair of them standing there. A jolt of panic shot through Kurapika, but he schooled his features and stared back at him expectantly. The invitation _had_ been for them both, right? It would be weird to invite just him and not Leorio too, especially in light of Chrollo’s determination to be more ‘neighbourly’. After all, Leorio was Chrollo’s neighbour too.

Recovering at an astonishing speed, Chrollo ushered them both inside: “Kurapika and Leorio! It’s wonderful to see you both.”

Relieved, Kurapika smiled politely and pressed the bouquet into Chrollo’s arms: “Thanks for having us.”

With that, he stepped over the threshold and tried not to think about the fact that the Nostrades had been brutally murdered in this very home just a month ago. Chrollo, who was now living here, did not seem bothered so why should he? Then again, Chrollo was very odd indeed.

As they walked through the entrance hall to the open-living space, Kurapika was struck by how normal the house was. Except for the blacked-out windows, everything was surprisingly mundane – like any other up-market home of the suburbs. There were beautiful paintings on the walls, stylish furniture, and the bookcases stuffed floor to ceilings with hundreds and hundreds of books. _Oh god, the bookcases_. Somehow, he got the distinct impression that Chrollo was a reader.

“I hope you both like steak.” Chrollo said congenially, “If not, I also have a potato bake in the oven.”

“We love steak, don’t we?” Leorio said, slapping Kurapika on the back as if to remind him of his manners. Kurapika merely nodded, still far more interested in the books than his eccentric neighbour.

At Chrollo’s behest, they both sat down at the dining table. It was noticeably large, with a dozen chairs – probably so that Chrollo could host parties with his friends, given that he lived alone. There was a bustling from the kitchen, and Chrollo came back out with a glass jug of water for the bouquet of flowers. He placed the jug in the middle of the dining table, shooting a smile at Kurapika.

“These flowers are just lovely, thank you.” Chrollo said, “And thank you for the pastries. They look delicious.”

“The pastries were all Leorio,” Kurapika said, fighting back a blush. “He’s unmatched in the kitchen. At least against me.”

Leorio laughed, “That’s not saying much, considering you could probably burn a bowl of cereal.”

Jaw dropping in faux offence, Kurapika slapped his hand admonishingly: “Leorio! That’s just rude.”

“You make up for it with your endless wit, work ethic, and dashingly good-looks.” Leorio said, pressing his hand to his chest dramatically. “You can’t have it all you know – save some skills for the rest of us bozos.”

“Yes, you do seem to have hoarded an unusual amount of talent.” Chrollo chimed in, resting his chin in his palm.

“Well, now you two are just being ridiculous.” Kurapika muttered, getting increasingly flustered.

“Do the pair of you imbibe?”

Leorio sat up a little straighter in his chair, “We can certainly be tempted – what are you offering?”

“Wine?”

Kurapika and Leorio exchanged grins: “That’ll be perfect.”

It did not take long for Chrollo to duck out of the room to fetch a bottle and some glasses. With a flourish, he opened the wine-bottle and poured out three glasses, the crimson liquid almost black as it swirled around. It was at that moment that Kurapika truly took in his neighbour’s appearance. Whilst the stark-white bandages were still wrapped tightly around his forehead, his hair had been brushed neatly, and the great-black fur coat was gone, replaced with a flattering black suit paired with a black dress-shirt and tie. It harkened back to his dramatic outfit the first day Kurapika and Leorio had met him, but it was fitting, rather than distracting. Then there were the earrings in each lobe, blue-green and spherical. It suited him.

“Are you both ready for dinner?”

“Yeah, we’re starving!” Leorio called, slapping his stomach jokingly. Chrollo smiled and went into the kitchen.

Unable to stave his curiosity, Kurapika took a sip of his wine. It was _decadent_. It was not too bitter and had a sweet undertone, rolling richly on his tongue. The label was unrecognisable, with a foreign language and symbol, but he would just ask Chrollo about it later. Given his luck, it would probably be hellishly expensive or just unattainable. Still, he was happy to enjoy just the one glass in this moment. He had never tasted a wine this complex, yet so beautiful. He set the glass back down again, careful to cherish it – he doubted that Chrollo would open another bottle of something this good.

“Dinner is served.”

Kurapika turned his head to see Chrollo breezily balancing three white plates. One by one, he set each plate down on the table. The food smelled and looked delicious. It was like something out of a food magazine, or the kind of meal they served at a five-star restaurant. Who knew that Chrollo, for all his eccentrics, was such an exceptional cook?

Sitting down, Chrollo’s smile widened: “There’s steak, salad, and a potato bake – and there’s plenty of left-overs in the kitchen so don’t hesitate to ask.”

“You shouldn’t spoil us.” Leorio said, shaking his head at Chrollo. “We’ll start thinking we can eat like this every night.”

“This looks amazing.” Kurapika added, still staring at the food in awe.

However, his stomach dropped as he cut into the steak.

It was raw. _Very_ raw.

When he poked it with his fork, blood oozed out. He and Leorio exchanged a meaningful glance but said nothing to their esteemed host. There was nothing wrong with a rare steak, but this cut was still mooing. They shrugged and were careful to eat around the meat, and when Chrollo questioned them as to how it was, they only ate the parts that looked more cooked (making a show of how delicious it was… despite the wholly unflattering truth). Meanwhile, the salad was a bit limp, but edible. The dressing certainly made it easier to swallow. And the potato bake. Well, the less said about it the better, but to sum up: the cheese was alright, but the circles of potato were stiff. It was as if all the elements had been arranged artfully on the plate by a professional food photographer, but the actual food itself had been cooked by someone who understood food as a concept, but had never actually eaten or cooked a meal before in their life.

Stranger still, was Chrollo’s behaviour. Like Kurapika and Leorio, it almost seemed like he was making a show of actually enjoying his meal: peppering little “mmms” here and there, smiling as he bit into his food, and constantly wiping his mouth cordially with his napkin, but in actual fact, he had hardly eaten anything from his plate. It was all the more obvious because Kurapika employed the exact same tactics whenever he was given less-than stellar food by a friend.

Needless to say, Kurapika was relieved when Chrollo finally noticed that no one was actually eating and began to clear the table. It seemed he and Chrollo had something in common: questionable cooking skills. Next time, he vowed to invite Chrollo over instead and have Leorio do the cooking. That would suit them all.

Dutifully, he stood up to offer his help in washing up, only for Chrollo to wave him away murmuring: “Nonsense, you are my guest and you will stay put.”

With that, Chrollo took up all the plates and whisked away to the kitchen. When he was out of sight, both Leorio and Kurapika looked at each other. Their facial expressions said it all. Never again would they willingly eat any of Chrollo’s cooking. As for his company, well…

“That was…”

“It certainly was…”

With a great solemnity, Kurapika leaned over the table and whispered: “In the interests of being neighbourly, we don’t say anything. Ever.”

“Agreed.”

“He seems nice though.” Kurapika said, settling back in his chair. He ignored the rumbling of his stomach, hoping that there were some left-over pastries waiting back at home.

Leorio grinned: “Oh, you like him now?”

“Fine. I was hasty in my initial assessment.” Kurapika said, lowering his voice. He wasn’t sure how thin the walls in this house were, but he was not going to test it. “Let’s see how his post-dinner conversation is and go from there.”

“Deal.”

* * *

As it turned out, Chrollo was a great conversationalist. He was quiet but wasn’t afraid to speak his mind or steer the conversation. Even better, he seemed willing to listen to other people. The more that Kurapika spoke with him, the more he enjoyed his company. It was refreshing to meet someone so intelligent, yet thoughtful. And it certainly helped that they had more in common then he would have ever guessed. Despite Chrollo’s unfortunate fashion choices (save the suit – the suit was… certainly something), his enthusiasm for reading more than made up for it in Kurapika’s mind.

Eventually they moved from the dining table and into the living room, carting their wine glasses as they went. Leorio and Chrollo settled onto the larger of the two couches, while Kurapika perched on the smaller. Of course, the smaller couch was very conveniently parked closer to the book-cases, so that he could snoop and find out what kind of books Chrollo liked (and perhaps, grant him a little insight into the kind of person his neighbour was. For example, he suspected that Chrollo had _not_ invested in a cookbook before). After a moment, Kurapika stood up, unable to help himself from taking a closer look at the books.

“Do you read much, Kurapika?”

“He’s a total bookworm!” Leorio laughed, “You’d have better luck asking him what he hasn’t read. It helps that he works at the library.”

“I don’t read while I’m working, you know.” Kurapika shot back, more distracted by the hard cover copy of _Kukuroo Mountain: A History_ he had spotted. Judging by the spine, it looked to be in good condition, though he would have to open it to really tell.

“I would love to read while I worked.” Chrollo said, his voice dream-like. “But then nothing would ever get done.”

“Have you been getting much work here?” Leorio asked curiously, taking a swig of wine.

Unable to help himself, the conversation began to fade out as Kurapika’s fingers traced longingly over the spine of a very beautiful fabric-cover copy of _The Adventures of Pokkle and Ponzu_ , one of his favourite stories. When he was a child, his mother used to read the story to him at night, stopping whenever his eyelids would begin to droop, heavy from sleep. It had taken them a few weeks to finish the story, but Kurapika had enjoyed every moment (if he read it now, it would take an hour or two, at the most). Some of these books were worth a lot of money, he could only wonder how Chrollo could afford to buy them or conversely, how on earth he had managed to get a decent price for them.

“Kurapika?”

Kurapika’s face went red: “Hm? Sorry?”

“Would you like more wine?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly-”

Chrollo held up a hand: “I won’t hear it. Fine wine is to be shared with fine company.”

Ears burning, Kurapika surrendered his glass. Two glasses of wine were fine. Any more than that and he would get tipsy; from previous experience, that was never a good thing.

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement,” Chrollo said, practically purring as he sipped his own wine.

“I would call it resignation.”

“But you don’t regret it at all, do you?”

Kurapika grinned: “No.”

With raised eyebrows, Leorio looked between them. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and surrendered his own glass. Though the other two did not seem to notice, the gears in his head were turning.

“I’m going to go freshen up.” Leorio announced suddenly, getting up from the couch and leaving his glass on the coffee table.

“Down the hall, on the left.” Chrollo supplied, waving his hand almost dismissively. It was not very polite, but Chrollo’s behaviour had been odd all night: exceedingly polite at times, and straight-up socially awkward at others. Perhaps it was the perceived lack of malicious intent, but Kurapika could forgive the occasional _faux pas_ given Chrollo’s overall nice demeanour (especially since he and Leorio were guilty of their own fair share of social misadventures – including spitting the meal Chrollo had painstakingly made them into their napkins).

Ignoring the meaningful look Leorio was shooting at him, Kurapika sipped at his wine awkwardly and stared at the bookcase, his eyes flitting over the dustjackets and absorbing none of the titles. He pretended not to notice Chrollo sitting up and making his way towards him.

“How do you like the wine?” Chrollo asked, idly leaning against the nearest bookcase.

“It’s the best I’ve ever had,” Kurapika replied truthfully, looking at Chrollo out of the corner of his eye, if only to be polite. Chrollo’s black suit was clinging to him in all the right places, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders and the sharp outline of his torso. Clearly, it had been tailored to fit him. Kurapika felt the class divide clearly in his own cheap slacks and knitted sweater, which seemed to hang off his frame more awkwardly by the minute. “I don’t know why you’d open such a nice wine for a couple of strangers though.”

“All the more reason to open it.” Chrollo said, his voice smooth as silk. Cheeks pinkening, Kurapika basked in the sound for a moment, before remembering himself. “Best to start out on the right foot, don’t you think?”

“A very fancy foot.” Kurapika agreed, smiling despite his best efforts. Finally, he tore his gaze completely away from the bookcase to acknowledge the man beside him. Maybe Leorio was right. Sure, Chrollo was intimidating, but he was also _nice_. Never mind that the suit he was wearing was doing him _all_ kinds of favours.

“I notice you’ve been admiring my books all night.”

Kurapika’s ears grew hot. He hoped that was the _only_ thing Chrollo had noticed him admiring. “Well, it’s an impressive collection. Don’t think I didn’t notice all these first editions.”

“Yes, it’s taken me a while to amass them all.” Chrollo said, brushing a hand over the dustjackets wistfully. “And I’m always finding more. I’m a bit of a hoarder, I think.”

“You certainly have the beginnings of a library,” Kurapika said, before taking another sip of wine. The room was getting warmer, but not in an unpleasant way. More like the way one sits beside a log-fire and lets the warmth slowly sink into their bones. “But this isn’t _that_ many.”

“Oh, this isn’t all of them. I have more upstairs.”

“Seriously? Show-off.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to take advantage of the fact.” Chrollo said, suddenly standing far closer than before, their shoulders a hairbreadth away from touching. Kurapika stared up at him, words escaping him. The happy log-fire was now a roaring tyre-fire, ravenous for _more._

“The books, I mean,” Chrollo said, his words echoing violently through Kurapika’s head at such close proximity. “You can borrow as many as you like, whenever you like.”

A hot flush began to work its way up Kurapika’s neck, and he was suddenly aware of the fact that Chrollo was a good couple of heads taller than him. To look down was a mistake, as he would notice the way Chrollo’s suit pants hugged his thighs. But to look up was equally detrimental, as he would get lost in that sharp jawline and void-like eyes. So, Kurapika forced his eyes away and simply stared into his own wine glass, swilling the liquid around aimlessly. Oh, he felt foolish.

But then a hand was tilting his chin up and just like that the glass fell from Kurapika’s shaking hands.

“Would you like that, Kurapika?”

The hand caressing his jaw was soft, but there was a hidden strength there, forcing him to look Chrollo in the eye. Like the slow scratch of a needle on a vinyl record, Chrollo’s voice reverberated through his brain, soft and seductive. It felt like sitting back in a hot bath. All he could smell was the spilt wine and the rich scent of Chrollo’s cologne, drawing him in impossibly closer. This close, he could see that Chrollo’s eyes were not lifeless stones as he’d first thought, but rather endlessly deep pools of black water, hiding dangers unseen and unimaginable. And Kurapika felt himself being lured into those depths, _wading step by step_ -

“Oh, hey, _oh whoops-”_

Kurapika blinked and turned his head to see who had interrupted them. It was Leorio. Only his face was bright red and his jaw was hanging open. They were having dinner with Chrollo. So, why was he standing there like a stunned mullet?

There was a heavy sigh from beside him and Kurapika realised that Chrollo was _holding_ him. He recoiled as if he had been struck. What was he doing?! Chrollo was attractive but that was no excuse for throwing himself at the man! They had only just met for goodness sakes!

Meanwhile, Chrollo was looking right at Leorio. His eyes were burning holes into the other man and there was a harshness to Chrollo’s face, that had not been there before. Kurapika blinked. And like that, it was gone. As if it had never been there at all. Then Kurapika realised there was wine dripping over his shoes and onto the white carpet and scrambled to pick up the glass. Distantly, he realised that he could not even recall having dropped the glass in the first place.

_“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”_ He spluttered, running into the kitchen to find paper towels and cleaning supplies. He had gone and thrown himself at his new neighbour and ruined the poor man’s carpet to boot.

What a fantastic dinner party. What a success. Good going, Kurapika!

Sure enough, Leorio and Kurapika left Chrollo’s house as soon as they had helped to clean up the wine spill. Neither of them spoke as they headed home, nor as they went into their separate rooms. An embarrassing silence had settled over them, and Leorio’s face was still red. Whether from the wine, or the scene he had stumbled upon, Kurapika was not sure.

As he brushed his teeth and donned his pyjamas, his thoughts swam violently through his head like sharks in bloodied waters, snatching at every stray idea floating past. Why couldn’t he remember throwing himself at Chrollo, much less throwing an entire glass of perfectly good wine all over the man’s floor? All he could remember was standing by the bookcase, with Chrollo’s soft voice whispering in his ear, and then suddenly he had been in Chrollo’s arms, with Leorio gaping at them.

Needless to say, Kurapika did not fall asleep for a long time.

* * *

The next morning, Kurapika managed to avoid any awkward questions from Leorio, as he discovered Leorio had been called in for a shift at the hospital. The note he had left on the counter was simple and to the point:

_Sunshine,_

_Got called in to work early today! Will see you this evening._

_Leorio_ 😊

Leorio had still included his signature smiley face. So… he was not mad. He was probably just confused. That was understandable - Kurapika was confused too. He still could not fathom how he had blacked out and thrown himself at Chrollo, all within the space of Leorio going to the bathroom and coming back (and he could not have been gone longer than five minutes!). Despite it being the weekend, for once, Kurapika was more than happy to drive to university to study to kill the thoughts drilling through his head.

When Kurapika got home, however, Leorio was there waiting at the dining table, with a look that said everything. _Let’s talk_. With all the awkwardness of a wallflower at prom, Kurapika tentatively sat across from him. Kurapika still did not fully understand himself what had happened. He was sure he had only two glasses of wine, the second of which was now stained all over Chrollo’s living room. He was not exactly a lightweight, but he could hold down two glasses of wine easily enough. And sure, Chrollo was attractive in a greasy, weirdly hot sort of way, but Kurapika would certainly never swoon over someone in such a manner. At least not while he was sober. So, how was he going to explain this one away? Sorry, I threw myself at the neighbour and made things weird for all of us?

Leorio looked at him over the rims of his glasses, “So, you and Chrollo, huh?”

“What?”

“C’mon, Kurapika.” Leorio said, a soft smile playing at his lips. “You like him, he clearly likes you. The minute I stepped out of the room you guys were clawing at each other!”

Alarmed, Kurapika shook his head, “No, it wasn’t like that, Leorio. I must have had too much wine. Last night is a complete blur - I still can’t remember what happened! I would never act like that normally, you know me.”

Leorio raised an eyebrow, “Look, you can like him! I’m not mad or anything like that – you guys just surprised me, I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“No, I’m serious, it _wasn’t_ like that!” Kurapika said, his voice getting louder. Why was Leorio so good at pressing all the wrong buttons?! “It was an accident and it won’t happen again. Yesterday is the first time I’ve even had a full conversation with him.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Leorio said with a shrug, “But just know I’m always going to support you, no matter who you like, okay? For what it’s worth, Chrollo seems like a decent guy, even if he can’t cook his way out of a plastic bag.”

Kurapika pinched the bridge of his nose but did not try to argue. Then he stood up and left the room, eager to distract himself. After the events of the last couple of days, his copy of _The Voyage of the Black Whale_ was practically screaming his name.

* * *

With a blessedly full belly of good food (thank god for Leorio’s cooking skills), Kurapika was perched on the couch in the living-room. The textbook for his classics class was in one hand and a highlighter poised in the air in the other as he read through the assigned chapter for the week. Leorio was spread out on the other couch, half-asleep as he watched the evening news on their bargain-bin TV (it didn’t get all the streaming services, but it was sturdy enough until they could afford something better).

Their earlier conversation was all but forgotten. That is until the doorbell rang.

Now very wide-awake, Leorio sat-up and waggled his eyebrows, “Oooh, wonder who that is?”

“Stop it!” Kurapika snapped, before slamming his textbook shut and stomping over to the door. “I bet it’s not even him.”

He swung the door open, and sure enough, Chrollo was standing there, looking as gaunt as a funeral-goer in his black coat and equally black clothes (save for his earrings, which shone blue under the porch-light). Albeit in a confusingly attractive manner, to Kurapika’s immense annoyance.

“Who is it, Kurapika?” Leorio sang from the living room.

Red-faced and suitably embarrassed, Kurapika yelled back, “Our neighbour, you prick!”

“Is this a bad time?” Chrollo asked, looking taken aback.

Kurapika stepped out onto the front porch and shut the door behind him. He expected this was going to be an awkward conversation, so the least he could do was make sure Leorio wasn’t eavesdropping.

“No.” Kurapika said, not quite looking Chrollo in the eye. Failing to mask his discomfort, he folded his arms tightly against his chest. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You left dinner pretty quickly yesterday.”

It did not sound like an accusation, rather a gesture of concern. Any annoyance in Kurapika’s body melted away.

“Can you blame me?” Kurapika said quietly, looking anywhere but at his neighbour. “I don’t usually act like that, _at all_. Leorio will tell you much the same. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for embarrassing you.”

There. He had apologised. Maybe they could forget all of this had ever happened. Kurapika could ignore Chrollo forever and go about his business and at the earliest convenience move far, far away.

Just as the silence was getting to the unbearable point, there was a rustling noise and then a pale hand tugged at one of Kurapika’s wrists and pulled it away from where it was glued to his chest. Just like that, Chrollo took Kurapika’s hand in his own, and once again, Kurapika was struck by how cold Chrollo’s touch was. This time, the touch felt warm even so.

“You don’t embarrass me - quite the opposite actually.” Chrollo said, his fingers brushing over Kurapika’s knuckles softly. “I just came over here to lend you some books.”

A hot flush worked its way up Kurapika’s neck and he found himself unable to pull his hand away. Static flooded his brain and all he managed was a short: “Books?”

Chrollo laughed and let go of Kurapika’s hand, before picking up the cloth bag at his feet and pushing it gently into Kurapika’s arms.

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation yesterday, but I did promise that you could borrow my books whenever you want.” Chrollo said, standing closer than before. “So, I handpicked a few of my favourites for you to thumb through.”

Unable to resist, Kurapika peeked into the bag. It was stuffed with books _. So many books._

“I also wanted to ask you something,” Chrollo said, his eyes turning downwards. It appeared to be his turn to look anywhere but in Kurapika’s general direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Just the two of us?”

Kurapika blinked. _Oh._ Oho. Ohooooohoho.

Chrollo’s soft gaze quickly dissipated into one of horror: “Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I find Leorio to be fine company. But he has none of your… _witticisms_.”

“Witticisms?”

Well, apart from the dictionary definition, Kurapika did not know what _that_ was supposed to mean. Chrollo wanted to have dinner with him because he was rude? Was that it? Was Chrollo a masochist, as well as an emo? Or maybe Chrollo just really liked drunk Kurapika? That would just be plain weird. But then again, his new neighbour certainly wasn’t anything near to what he would describe as normal.

“Among other things.” Chrollo finished, staring blatantly at Kurapika, whose face was steadily getting redder and redder. For not the last time, a resounding ‘oh no’ ran through Kurapika’s brain.

“Yes, okay then.” Kurapika said, cursing himself to hell and back. Why was Chrollo so handsome? It was not fair.

.

.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go bump in the night and Kurapika decides to invest in some pepper spray.  
> Chrollo has a bad day and overeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and/or commented! I really appreciate it ♡✧( ु•⌄• )

It took less than a week for Kurapika to read all the books Chrollo had lent to him. To his delight, the selection had included _Kukuroo Mountain: A History_ and _The Adventures of Pokkle and Ponzu_ , to which Kurapika could only conclude that Chrollo must have been watching more carefully than he thought and noticed him admiring those particular books. The very thought made his cheeks turn pink.

The minute he finished the last book, Kurapika bundled them all up into a re-usable shopping bag along with a particularly brave hand-written note detailing which of the books he had liked and why, and thanking Chrollo for letting him borrow them. Then he marched over to Chrollo’s house and knocked on the door. His stomach twisted not unpleasantly as he waited, balancing back-and-forth on the balls of his feet.

From the signals Chrollo had been broadcasting, he liked him, and Kurapika was beginning to like him back. Ever since that dinner party, his thoughts had begun to circulate around his eccentric neighbour. He had tossed and turned at night and caught himself daydreaming in his lectures about strong arms wrapped around him and the gentle press of lips against his own. It was safe to say, he had never had a crush quite like this on anyone before, not even in high school. It was embarrassing, but it also made him feel lighter than air (he could just picture Leorio laughing about it now). Still, he wanted to pursue the feeling, more than anything.

When the door swung open, he was surprised to see not Chrollo, but instead a tall man with a shock of red hair sprouting from his head. His clothing sense was no better than Chrollo’s, if more outlandish: he was wearing a crop-top with suit symbols emblazoned on it, as well as bright-purple pants, and curled boots. There was no other way to describe it - he looked like a child’s drawing of a harlequin. There was a clear strength in his pale limbs, and Kurapika took a step back. Likewise, the man blinked, obviously surprised, before a dangerous smile slid onto his face.

“Why, hello, who might you be?” The man’s voice was saccharine sweet and twice as deadly, and every alarm bell in Kurapika’s body was shouting at him to run away. Who was this guy? He seemed dangerous.

“I’m Chrollo’s neighbour, Kurapika. I’m just here to return his books.”

The man raised one thin eyebrow, a disbelieving expression on his face: “Chrollo lent you _his_ books?”

Getting more annoyed, Kurapika held up the cloth bag and took out one of the books to show him. What, did he need even more proof than this? This was beginning to feel like an interrogation.

“So, he did...” the man whistled lowly, before throwing the door open and ushering Kurapika inside. “Come on in, then. You may call me Hisoka. I’m one of Chrollo’s old friends.”

So, this was one of Chrollo’s infamous friends. There was something… unusual about Hisoka. Despite his red-hair and colourful clothing, he didn’t seem the type to be overly loud. Still, there was something unpleasant about his demeanour: whether it be the sharp edges of his face, the dangerous smile, or his piercing golden eyes. The hairs on Kurapika’s neck stood on end, but he followed the man down the hall into the living room.

“Nice to meet you, Hisoka.” Kurapika said politely, carefully depositing the books onto the coffee table. “How do you know Chrollo?”

“Oh, he and I go way back.” Hisoka said, his smile widening. “We’re almost like family, really.”

“Is Chrollo here?” Kurapika asked, hoping he did not sound too eager.

“No, sadly he’s at work.” Hisoka said mournfully, looking out the window almost wistfully. “Though I’m sure he’ll be simply devastated that he wasn’t here to receive you. He gets horribly moody when he doesn’t get what he wants, you see.”

Both relief and disappointment overcame Kurapika. On the one hand, he had wanted the chance to speak with Chrollo, on the other, there was something so magnetic about him that it scared him to his core. He could always thank him another time. He waved his hand dismissively, “That’s fine. I’m just here to drop off his books anyway.”

“Don’t you want to stay for a drink? I’d love to pick your brains.”

There was something in that golden gaze that made him think Hisoka did not actually want to chat, but quite literally peel back his skull and pick his brains. Best be off then. ASAP.

“No, no, I’ve got to get going.” he said hurriedly, slowly edging his way towards the door. If the alarm bells had been ringing before, well, now they were blaring. He got all the way to the welcome mat before he turned and slammed right into what felt like a giant wall of meat.

“Hello, who’s this?”

Kurapika stumbled back only to see a giant of a man standing in the doorway, alongside two others, a tall man with a top-knot and a blonde woman in a suit. But Kurapika only had eyes for the giant, with his immense build and great mess of brown hair. With his big fur-lined jacket, he looked for all the world like a great, grizzly bear. Kurapika gaped. The man smiled at him gleefully, in what was probably supposed to be a friendly way but was instead downright horrifying.

Then he remembered Hisoka standing behind him.

“I’m Chrollo’s neighbour,” Kurapika managed, before ducking under the man’s arm and hastily exiting the house. All the while, he could feel Hisoka’s keen gaze burning into his back. “Pardon me, I have to go.”

With adrenaline racing through his body, Kurapika rushed back to the safety of his house. Only when he had shut the front door and locked it, did his breathing finally slow. Were all Chrollo’s friends plain terrifying?!

* * *

Over the following week, Kurapika saw neither hide nor hair of his elusive neighbour. With a number of university assignments hanging over his head as well as his shifts at the library to keep him busy, he barely had time to poke his head out of the house, much less to keep tabs on Chrollo. Any thoughts of taking up Chrollo on his offer of dinner or of borrowing more books had all but sequestered themselves into the back of his mind. In all his awkwardness, he had quite forgotten to ask Chrollo for his phone number and his suddenly busy lifestyle was making it impossible to rectify the situation. He could only hope that Chrollo had gotten the note he had left with his books.

In fact, the following Saturday, it was Chrollo who ran into Kurapika. Quite literally. Kurapika swung open the front door only to very nearly knock himself out against the solid chest of the person standing far too close to the door. Kurapika would recognise that slab of muscle anywhere. He peeked upwards and sure enough, Chrollo was looming in the doorway with his arm raised to knock on the door, clearly not expecting to have caught Kurapika in the midst of leaving the house. He didn’t look like he’d been expecting to see anyone either, given his current state. There was something off about him today – his face seemed ashen, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair seemed greasier than ever – oh, wait, no, that was normal. Kurapika made a quick mental note to brainstorm ideas on how to subtly convince Chrollo to invest in a better brand of shampoo.

“Hello,” Kurapika offered politely, surprised to see Chrollo calling in, and in such a state to boot; “Did you need something? I’m just on my way out.”

Chrollo seemed to recover: “Well, I was just going to extend an invitation. I made too much prosciutto salad and was wondering if you might join me for dinner. This invitation is long over-due.”

Kurapika readjusted his bag-strap awkwardly, an unwelcome and not unfamiliar heat rising up his neck. Unlike the main characters in all the books he read, flirting was quite beyond him. It just made him feel… foolish. Why did feelings have to be so messy?!

“I would love to, but I have to babysit tonight.” Of course, Kurapika very obviously did not point out that he would rather stab his tongue with a fork then eat more of Chrollo’s cooking. He did, however, very much want more of his company.

“Oh, then how about a nightcap after you get back?” Chrollo said, still standing very much in his way. That soft smile that made his heart jump was back on Chrollo’s face, if somewhat strained. “I’m a bit of a night owl too.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Mito works the night-shift at the casino, so I need to stay to look after Gon.” Kurapika said apologetically, ducking past Chrollo with astonishing speed (oh, he was _so_ late; he could only hope Mito wouldn’t be too upset…). As he headed towards his car, he turned mid-stride with a sorry smile, still fighting the blush blooming in his cheeks. “But we can have dinner another night.”

As he clambered into his car, he found the door refused to shut. Kurapika frowned up at Chrollo, who was steadfastly holding the door open. His jaw twitched. This was no longer cute, but in fact, _annoying_. Was Chrollo the clingy type? Typical. That was just his luck.

Kurapika pinched the bridge of his nose, ready to verbally smack-talk some sense into his now overbearing neighbour, only to be cut off completely as Chrollo leaned forward, his eyes soft: “Don’t you want to stay here with me?”

Chrollo gazed deeply into his eyes, his fingers curled possessively over the car door, and the world seemed to melt away around them. _Of course I want to stay_ , Kurapika thought suddenly. In fact, now he couldn’t think of a reason _not_ to stay, not that he would have wanted to. Had there been a reason before? Surely not a good one. It was better to stay here with Chrollo, his overly attractive and very nice neighbour who was _perfect in every which way and-_

Kurapika’s phone buzzed in his pocket, wrenching him from his stupor. The haze lifted as soon as it had appeared, and he took out his phone. The caller ID was Mito. Everything flooded back. Oh, shoot, he was meant to be at Mito’s _ten minutes ago._ His hands fumbled as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. Time to let Chrollo down easy: “I’m sorry, I really need to go. I’m late enough as it is.”

Chrollo’s mouth was drawn into a thin line and his voice was cold: “ _Kurapika-”_

But Kurapika had already shut the door and started the car. He steadfastly ignored Chrollo’s withering look and backed out into the street, perhaps leaning a bit too heavily on the gas. Chrollo was persistent, that was for sure. Time to invest in some pepper spray.

\--*

Music pumped loudly out of Youpi’s shitty Bluetooth speaker-set, making the walls of the share-house tremble with each note. They did not fall however, perhaps due to the raw density of university students (and a few stragglers off the street) packed within its tiny rooms and hallways, not unlike sardines in a can. Neferpitou was dive-bombing in the pool outside while Youpi was dutifully grilling sausages and low-quality beef patties on Meruem’s mum’s shitty second-rate hand-me-down BBQ (which they had as a group, gracefully accepted because none of them could afford anything better).

Which meant when the doorbell rang (and really who fucking rang the doorbell at a party like this) it was poor Shaiapouf who was stuck answering, no thanks to his poor timing in walking past the door. And given that he wanted to throw himself into the mass of dancing people, he could not have imagined anything worse at that very moment.

With a disgruntled huff, Shaiapouf threw open the door and appraised the haggard looking man haunting the doorstep. The man’s appearance was certainly startling, given the long black coat and the bandages wrapped tightly around his forehead, not to mention the disgusting bags under his eyes. _Ewww, an emo,_ Shaiapouf thought. This was probably one of Meruem’s friends (which was a bad thing, given Mereum’s latest choices in company). Gross.

“Look, Mereum isn’t here.” Shaiapouf snapped, “He’s probably out sucking face with that little bit-”

“Oh no, I’m here for the party.” The man said cutting him off smoothly. In his hands were two liquor bottles – both whiskey of the same brand. Shaiapouf’s eyebrows flitted up with interest but settled again. It was probably cheap and horrible. It was always better to stick to his own stash (he had been burned before, and would not be so naïve again!). The man peered through the doorway and into the house pointedly: “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

So, he was not one of Mereum’s friends then. Perhaps he was here on Neferpitou or Youpi’s invite. Or he could be some random (like half the people here). At this point, Shaiapouf could not have cared less. So long as he could drink in peace and no one called the pigs, he was fine with whatever.

Shaiapouf rolled his eyes but swung open the door. With a petulant nod, he ushered the greasy man inside.

“My name is Chrollo.”

“I don’t care.” Shaiapouf replied airily, heading back into the throng.

Chrollo smiled thinly and entered the house.

* * *

“-Pika!”

Kurapika found himself being violently wrested from his much-needed sleep. Two tiny, yet surprisingly strong hands belonging to Gon Freecs (his friend and ward) were currently throttling the very life from his shoulders. It was a decidedly unpleasant way to wake up.

“I’m awake, Gon!” Kurapika wheezed, sitting up with a groan. Not for the first time, he had fallen asleep on Aunt Mito’s lumpy couch and now had more than one resulting ache in his back. “ _Please_ _stop shaking me.”_

“Pika!” Gon bellowed at a volume that was frankly offensive at such an early hour of the morning. Thankfully, he let go of Kurapika’s shoulders. “You gotta wake up! Look at the news!”

Any sleep vanished from Kurapika’s eyes as he looked at the TV screen. On the screen was a view from what must have been a police helicopter overlooking a house that had been cordoned off with yellow tape. There were several emergency vehicles around it, all with their lights flashing. He knew that street – he lived on it! A terror seized his heart and he sat up straight on the couch, eyes not moving from the screen as he listened in to the broadcast:

_“- authorities were called to a house in the Whale Island suburbs in the early hours of the morning due to noise complaints from neighbours, only to discover the dismembered bodies of multiple, as of the moment unidentified, young adults ranging in their early to late twenties. It is believed that of the victims, several may be tenants of the house who were throwing a party just hours before. Whale Island local police have declared the house and surrounds a crime scene and have asked the community to please come forward if they have any information surrounding the circumstances of this unforeseen tragedy-”_

The relief that nothing had happened to Leorio or Chrollo was quickly replaced with a cold sense of dread. That house was at the end of his street. The kids who owned it were students at his university and he had even shared a class or two with a few of them. This was the Nostrade house all over again – was the murderer back to plague their street? Sure, Leorio and Chrollo might be safe for now, but if this was the same murderer, then they had shown that they were perfectly willing to strike more than once, and on the same street no less!

“Isn’t that house on your street?”

Kurapika switched off the TV, “How about I make some breakfast?”

Gon’s brow furrowed, but to Kurapika’s relief, he seemed to perk up at the prospect of food.

“Can we have pancakes?”

With a great deal of effort, Kurapika pushed down his fear and plastered a smile on his face: “Absolutely.”

* * *

To no surprise, the news vans were back in droves, held back only by the presence of multiple police vehicles and brightly coloured crime scene tape. _Vultures_ , Kurapika thought angrily. As soon as Mito had returned, he had barricaded himself indoors and on the way back had passed the house in question (which had taken far longer than usual due to the sheer number of cars and vans parked on the street, as well as the mob of reporters, mourners with flowers, and people just looking to sticky-beak). What had really rattled him, however, was the blood stained on the windows of the house. It was _everywhere_ \- splattered across the windows like a macabre piece of modern art. Whilst the Nostrade house had been gory, as a bystander Kurapika had not seen any blood. Not so, this time. The whole ordeal made his stomach turn.

Even inside the house he could hear the commotion down the street. The crowd was nowhere near close to dissipating, and if it was anything like the Nostrade house, well, it would be a few weeks before the last lot of onlookers finally left. But if this was the same murderer striking again (which Kurapika strongly suspected was the case), then they would never have peace on the street again. Indeed, he had read enough about serial killers to know that these tragedies would attract macabre crowds, horror podcasters, students studying psychology and criminology, and all sorts for years to come.

When Leorio got home after his shift, the two had a quiet dinner. They were both unsettled by the events wracking their neighbourhood. And while Kurapika was annoyed by the news vans and the crowds, as he knew Leorio was too, he felt even worse for his friend, who had seen the bodies of some of the students being ferried in to the hospital. Of the house filled with party-goers, only a few had been found alive. However, despite being rushed to the hospital, they had quickly succumbed to their injuries. Whatever he had seen of them, Kurapika could tell by Leorio’s ashen face that it had not left him unaffected.

To make matters worse, the doorbell had been going off all day. The crowd of reporters and nosey onlookers had filtered out further into the street and begun doorknocking for a new angle on the story. Some of the more disruptive mob were trampling into people’s front yards, as if the killer was hiding behind a bush. Kurapika had locked the door and closed all the curtains: a strong broadcast if any of how unwelcome the crowd was. He had peered through the fisheye lens a number of times, to check if it was anyone he knew. So far, it had only been the media.

Just as Kurapika began rinsing their plates and placing them into the dishwasher, the doorbell went off again. He gritted his teeth. It was most likely the reporters again. Utterly distasteful.

From where he was seated at the kitchen island, Leorio stood up with a heavy frown: “Don’t worry. I’ll check the door this time.”

Kurapika put down the plates and peered down the hallway after him. He was sick of the media. If it was another reporter, well, he was going to have a few choice words for them. Sneaking behind Leorio, he ducked into the living room. He had a better angle of the door from here, and the windows looked out onto the front lawn too.

As Leorio peeked through the fisheye lens, the anger in his face melted away, replaced with his usual friendly demeanour. He swung open the door and greeted the person cheerfully. Kurapika sighed with relief. It sounded like Leorio knew who the person was at the door. He was just glad it wasn’t the media back to harass them.

“It’s good to see you Leorio. Say, is Kurapika home?”

Oh, no. Kurapika knew that voice.

It was Chrollo.

Flashbacks of the previous night flooded Kurapika’s head: Chrollo’s possessive hold on the car-door to keep Kurapika from driving away, his usually pleasant voice turned cold, and of his inability to accept a simple refusal. The warning signs that Kurapika had felt so strongly when he first met Chrollo were back in full force. How could he have let his guard down? Next time he would listen to his gut.

With a knowing gleam in his eye, Leorio turned his head to yell at Kurapika to _get his ass to the door now_. But he stopped as he saw his friend frantically waving at him from the living room door, panic etched into every inch of his face.

_I’m not here!_ Kurapika mouthed at Leorio. As to why he did not want to see Chrollo, especially since in anybody’s eyes they must have seemed to be getting on like a house on fire lately, Leorio looked stumped. But Kurapika had been friends with Leorio for a long time, so he could only hope that Leorio would understand him in this moment.

Smoother than anyone gave him credit for, Leorio shrugged at Chrollo: “Oh, sorry. He’s out at the moment.”

A wave of relief hit Kurapika and he slumped in the doorway. Good old Leorio.

“I see. May I have a moment of your time then?”

Helplessly, Leorio’s eyes flickered to Kurapika. _Just get rid of him_ , Kurapika thought, hoping his body language was conveying everything to his friend, _you’re a smart man, Leorio. I know you can do it._

“Sure,” Leorio said, making a point to step out onto the porch and keep Chrollo from peering into the house (the nosy bastard). Kurapika could have kissed him. Instead, he ran up to the front window to keep an eye on his friend.

With one finger pushing aside the heavy drape just the slightest amount, Kurapika peered surreptitiously through the window. Leorio was standing at the doorway, arms folded across his chest awkwardly as he chatted with Chrollo. Kurapika’s jaw went slack. Chrollo looked different - _vastly_ different from last night. The bags under his eyes were gone, and whilst the skin of his face was still deathly pale, it had an almost healthy glow to it, like he was bathing moonlight. The thinly veiled desperation in his movements was gone, replaced with his usual cool, unwavering confidence. Odd. Had Kurapika entirely imagined Chrollo’s state last night? Or was this really the miraculous result of a good night’s sleep? Feeling moodier than ever, Kurapika closed the curtain and slumped onto the couch. This really was turning out to be a rotten day.

When Chrollo finally left, Leorio shut the door and looked over his shoulder at Kurapika.

“Are you okay?”

“Just tired.” Kurapika replied, not completely lying. “Looking after Gon just zaps it out of me. And I can’t bear to be outside right now, not after those kids...”

Leorio nodded, the circles under his eyes more than an indicator of his similar foul mood: “Well, alright then. Chrollo left this for you.” He pressed the package into Kurapika’s arms. It was relatively heavy and wrapped tightly with brown tissue paper and an intricately tied deep-blue ribbon.

A jolt of surprise ran through him. A gift? Now, that was strange. Perhaps it was Chrollo’s way of apologising for his earlier behaviour? Curiosity overtook him and he tore into the paper, pulling out a thick hard-cover tome entitled _Maps of the World: From Yorbian to the Dark Continent_. Kurapika’s mouth fell open. It looked old, very old. But it was in _excellent_ condition. He opened it up to the first page and sure enough, there was a message written in a spidery hand with black ink:

_Dear Curarpikt,_

_This book has been a long-standing part of my collection, and I know of no one better than you to cherish it as much as I have. I hope it brings you joy._

_With all my affection,_

_Quwrof_

A lump had formed itself in Kurapika’s throat. It was a truly beautiful gift. Only, now he felt more confused than ever. He could not simply forget Chrollo’s actions from last night, but nor could he dismiss their relationship, with their free-flowing conversations and charged interactions. Chrollo was easy to talk to and Kurapika _liked_ talking to him. Whatever the reason, he felt connected to him in some way. And he certainly like the man’s book collection too.

“You should see him, to thank him for such a lovely gift.”

“I will.” Kurapika admitted after a moment. Despite the anxiety gnawing at him, he really did want to see Chrollo again. “I just need some time.”

Leorio’s eyes softened and he squeezed Kurapika’s shoulder: “Do you want to talk about it?”

“We had a falling out.”

If Leorio found out how Chrollo had been behaving, Kurapika was not sure how he would react. He was certain that it would not be pleasant. And a part of him knew that Leorio would be right and that he should forget Chrollo completely. Why could nothing ever be simple?

Leorio hugged him fiercely, “Aw, I’m sorry.”

Kurapika buried his face in Leorio’s shoulder: “Thank you.”

* * *

Ever since Chrollo’s less than stellar efforts to get Kurapika to come over for dinner, Kurapika had successfully managed to avoid him not unlike that Scientologist actor dodging explosions and grievous bodily harm in that incredibly inaccurate line of espionage films that Leorio seemed to enjoy so much (Kurapika had caught him, on more than one occasion, re-enacting scenes from the films in the living room, jumping from couch to couch and humming the theme song. Tactfully, neither of them had discussed this).

Of course, thoughts of his disastrous (i.e. non-existent) love life had quite escaped his thoughts given the brutal murders throttling the very foundations of the neighbourhood. He had taken to sprinting from the front-door to his car in the mornings and vice versa at night and employed a similar tactic when putting the bins out for collection. More than ever, he practiced hard at the dojo with both hand-to-hand combat and with his _bokken_. Every shadow, every unexplained noise was now a vicious murderer (or murderers) out for his virgin blood (shut up, Leorio). The murderer had now proved themselves not above brutally killing a bunch of dumb university students enjoying a rager (sure, most university students were annoying, but this still came under the universally acknowledged definition of a harsh reaction). And Kurapika was more than aware that he was ALSO a university student. In fact, he was pretty sure that Neon Nostrade had been around his age too. Was killing university students the psycho’s M.O.? It was certainly likely.

More than that, for days now he had felt like he was being watched. And every logical inch of his brain knew how _that_ sounded. Of course, such a feeling did not come as a surprise. Why, surely everyone in the neighbourhood was feeling similarly!

But a nervous, very small part of him that he liked to firmly ignore at all times could not dismiss it. While usually he could quell such intrusive thoughts, for some reason, the feeling would not leave him. Wherever he went, whether it be walking between the campus buildings, driving to the dojo, or shelving books at the library, invisible eyes seemed to follow him. Even at home, he couldn’t relax.

In hindsight, it was only after days of paranoia, that things finally began to fit themselves together. Though he did not know it yet, and how could he, it was that fateful weekday night that things began to go off the deep end: Kurapika was taking a bath, sitting back in the steaming water to soothe his aching limbs after a day of study and work.

The sensation began slowly, as if his senses were slow to catch up to the danger. A shiver ran down Kurapika’s spine. The pair of eyes was back again, watching his every moment. He shook his head, feeling silly: the only window in the bathroom was made of frosted glass, and even thought it was open, it was positioned close to the ceiling to ensure privacy. Leorio had just left for a night shift, so he couldn’t have poked his head in. There was no way anyone could be looking in!

Still, as usual, the feeling did not dissipate, so Kurapika drained the bath and hastily fastened his bathrobe. After putting on his pyjamas, he did not fix himself a cup of tea, but instead went straight to bed.

* * *

Kurapika awoke, only to be greeted with total darkness. He could not remember what he had been dreaming about, only that it had been rather mundane. Blinking slowly, he turned over in his bed to glare at the alarm-clock.

_04:00AM_

A shiver ran down his spine. There was that feeling again. Like someone was watching him. He looked over at the window and froze. There was someone there. It was difficult to tell, with only the faint light of a crescent moon to illuminate the darkness, but there was a shadow there – approximately human-sized. It was just looming in front of his window. Not moving.

Kurapika sat up in shock.

Just like that, the shadow disappeared.

With the idea of sleep fading from his mind, Kurapika threw back the covers and raced over to the window. All he could see was the side-fence and the garden patch. But nothing in front of the window could have cast that shadow. Was he seeing things? Considering everything that had been going on lately, seeing shadows in the dead of night seemed plausible. Just as he was about to clamber back into bed however, there was an almighty _crash_ from outside.

Kurapika raced to the window again. Still nothing. But he had certainly not imagined that sound. It had been too loud, too _raw_. Of course, it could be neighbourhood cats getting into a scuffle, but considering the shadow against the window, it could be something else entirely. He wasn’t going to risk it.

For a second, he panicked thinking about Leorio, only to remember that he was working an overnight shift at the hospital. He felt relieved that Leorio wasn’t in danger but it would have been so much less scary with Leorio here. With his heart thudding against his ribcage, Kurapika raced into the garage to grab the shovel. Unlike the Nostrades and those poor students, he would _not_ go down without a fight. As he crept through the house to the backdoor, he resisted the urge to flick on the lights. If he turned on the lights now, the intruder would know he was awake (if they did not know already, that is).

With shaking fingers, he opened the sliding door very slowly to avoid making any noise. Then he stepped out onto the porch, wielding the shovel much like one would wield a sword. He felt utterly ridiculous and very, very scared. He peered out into the garden, his eyes roaming back and forth past the shed, the garden patch, the clothesline, and the spread of lawn. There was nothing there.

So, what had caused the sound?

He was certain it had been real. But it looked like everything was in its rightful place: the deckchairs, the outdoor dining set, and the bins. Nothing was out of sorts.

Then it happened. A shadow appeared, passing in front of him as quick as lightning.

“AHHHH!” Kurapika yelled, holding his shovel threateningly. But the shadow was gone again, just as quickly.

Slowly, he backed his way towards the door again. He needed to put some space between himself and whatever the hell that was. It had been large, as big as a human at least (a tall human at that!). Kurapika was seriously regretting reading so many horror novels lately.

As he took another step, he felt it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could feel the shadow watching him. It was close – barely a meter away, just standing there as if poised to strike.

Without missing a beat, Kurapika swung the shovel with all his might at the dark mass and let out a strangled cry as the shovel connected with a solid _something_. The mass collapsed with a strangely human “Oof!” Kurapika blinked. With the shovel still held tightly in his shaking hands, he turned on the porch lights.

The dark mass was no creature of the night, but just a man of unusually immense size, now knocked out on Kurapika’s back porch. A sigh of relief left Kurapika’s throat and he chastised himself for being so silly. But only momentarily. Because he had indeed been right that there was an intruder. And a dangerous looking one, at that.

With his gaze fixed on the man, lest he only be pretending to be unconscious, Kurapika quickly ducked into the shed and rummaged around for some rope. He approached the man and poked him with the business end of his shovel. Nothing. Relatively satisfied, Kurapika set to work and tied the man’s arms and legs together behind his back and prayed that the knots would hold together. As he tied the knots and was forced to look at the man, recognition overcame Kurapika.

Oh no. This guy was one of Chrollo’s friends. – the big bear-like one with the big booming laugh and long hair. And now he was lying deathly still on Kurapika’s porch. What in the ever-living hell was going on?! Kurapika stumbled backwards, falling right off the man’s still body. He scrambled across the porch and back into the house, slamming the sliding door shut and locking it. With his breathing getting more unstable with every passing second, Kurapika fumbled for his phone. What in the actual _fuck_ (as Leorio would say)? Why was this man sneaking around his back garden and trying to break in? Did he want to rob Kurapika and Leorio? Was _he_ the psycho killer terrorising the neighbourhood? Was Chrollo involved somehow? Were more of his weirdo friends sneaking around the place?!

“Come on, pick up, Leorio!” Kurapika whispered angrily, fingers shaking around his phone, his gaze still set on the body on his porch. Usually, Leorio kept his phone on him during his shifts (albeit, silent and turned off). Hopefully, just this once, he had kept it on, or was on his break. Hopefully.

_“Kurapika? What’s up?”_

Kurapika could have kissed him. “Leorio! Oh, thank god. Freaking _hell-”_

_“Uhhh, are you okay, buddy?”_

“Okay? No, I’m not okay!” Kurapika wheezed into the receiver, “I just knocked out some psychopath trying to sneak into our house and now’s he not moving, and oh god, what if he’s dead-”

It was like a switch had been flicked, and suddenly Leorio had snapped into his professional doctor-mode, just like whenever Kurapika accidentally hurt himself around the house: _“Okay, Pika, I’m gonna need you to calm down.”_

“Screw you-”

_“Just a couple of deep breaths, okay?”_

Kurapika rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Miraculously, it worked. “Sorry,” he mumbled into the phone, blood still racing, but feeling just a little better.

_“That’s okay.”_ Leorio replied, _“Now, are you hurt at all?”_

“N-no, I’m fine.”

Peering through the glass screen door, Kurapika saw that the man was still lying on the porch, cold and unmoving.

“Oh god, I think he’s dead.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. He didn’t want to go to jail! He would get eaten alive in there! And there were so many things he still wanted to do and see. Now he would never accomplish anything because this great lug had decided to sneak up on him and get his brains bashed in.

_“Hey, hey it’s okay.”_ Leorio said, his voice soothing Kurapika’s every last nerve; _“Now, I want you to hang up and call the police, and then call me again as soon as you can, okay? Can you do that for me, Pika?”_

“Yeah, okay.” Kurapika said, tears now streaming down his face.

_“Good, I’m really proud of you, okay? Remember to call me back immediately after you’ve called the police.”_

“Bye.” Kurapika managed, before hanging up the phone and dialling the emergency services.

_“This is the emergency services operator; how may I direct your call?”_

“Police,” Kurapika said, waiting patiently before an officer picked up. “Please, there’s an intruder on my back porch. I knocked him out, but I’m scared he’ll wake up. Please send somebody.”

_“Are you safe - is there anyone else in the house with you?”_

“I think so, and it’s just me.”

_“Can we get your address?”_

Kurapika told it to her, his gaze still fixed on the man. The man had seemed boisterous, but nice. Was he really the type to just break into someone’s house? Maybe he had gotten confused and had been trying to see Chrollo? Or maybe he was the murderer haunting the neighbourhood, back to claim more victims! Kurapika didn’t want to end up like the Nostrades or that house of university students down the street. 

As he hung up, and was about to call Leorio back, the man on the porch stirred. He blinked owlishly and then looked right at Kurapika. Kurapika screamed. The man moved, only to fall short, the ropes keeping his limbs tied together. The man frowned angrily, but as he looked at Kurapika, seemed to relax. Then he smiled and the world seemed to stand still. The man had _fangs_. Honest to god fangs - two great incisor teeth curling over his lower-set of teeth and threatening to cut through his own lips.

“Kurapika!” the man shouted, lifting his face from the wooden panels of the porch; “Hey, Kurapika! Can you untie me? I promise this is all a huge misunderstanding!”

The words did not register to Kurapika, who had fallen to the floor in horror. Even tied up and restrained outside, the man was terrifying. What if the ropes were not as strong as he had thought?!

“Kurapika? Can you hear me?” The man yelled again, his fangs flashing. “Untie me! This is all a mistake, kiddo!”

The words shot through Kurapika unheard, his terror too great at seeing the large man struggling against the ropes, his large muscles straining against the restraints. The ropes were still holding, but for how much longer, he wasn’t sure. The glass door between them suddenly seemed superfluous, and he picked up the shovel again before ducking behind the couch. He held the shovel tightly to his chest, keeping his eyes locked on the man outside.

Shit, shit, shit, was this really how he was going to die? Murdered by some random psychopath in his own house? It was not like he was rich or had anything to make this man want to kill him! Both he and Leorio were just scraping by, juggling study with part-time jobs, or in Leorio’s case, shift work at the hospital. Hell, they could barely afford this shitty little house!

“Kurapika, please!” the man shouted, panic beginning to seep into his voice; “At least drag me inside! The sun’s coming up, please!”

The man was right, the sun was beginning to peek over the trees and flood the backyard, inch by precious inch. It was morning. The man must have crept into his backyard less than an hour ago to break in, probably expecting Kurapika to still be asleep.

“Kurapika, I won’t hurt you!” the man yelled again, his eyes imploring, and shocking Kurapika to his very core. The desperation was animalistic and strange, as if he had not been terrorising Kurapika and trying to break in. “Please, please untie me!”

Something in Kurapika wanted to listen to him, but he saw the brute strength in the man’s body and his arms, and the unnatural sharpness of his teeth, and he found himself unable to move. His limbs locked in place, petrified on the spot.

“Kurapika, please! Let me in! Please!”

Where were the police?! Surely, they should be close by now? Then slowly and surely, the sun inched its way over the fence, flooding the back-garden with sunlight. For a moment, the fear in Kurapika’s heart dissolved. The light of day made the man seem smaller than he was, and the morning light brought the promise of help, whether that be Leorio or the authorities, whoever was quicker.

But just as quickly, the relief in Kurapika’s chest turned to horror. The acrid scent of smoke filled his nostrils and he watched as his would-be attacker convulsed on the porch as sunlight began to wash over his body. The man screamed and screamed. His flesh burned and blackened before Kurapika’s eyes, melting and fizzling away into nothing but ash. The man kept screaming even as his tongue was burnt to a crisp and his jaw blackened. It was horrible and Kurapika couldn’t tear his eyes away. Frozen to the spot, all he could think about was that dumb 80s movie Leorio had forced him to watch where in the finale all the Nazis had been burned with the power of God, and their flesh had melted and dripped off their skulls like candle wax. Only a billion times worse because this was real and not movie magic made designed to entertain (And this was just some random guy and not an over the top movie villain burning to death in his back garden).

Finally, the screaming stopped and all that remained of the man was a pile of ash.

“Okay,” Kurapika said as he promptly blacked out.

* * *

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?”

Blinking slowly, Kurapika came to. He sat up and immediately regretted it, as the room swam around him. Ouch. As the room came back into focus, his attention was immediately drawn to the two police officers kneeling beside him in his living-room.

“Kurapika!”

A pair of arms wrapped around his torso, hugging him tightly. It was Leorio. Kurapika leaned into his friend’s embrace, letting the familiar scent of Leorio’s shampoo and cheap cologne wash over him. If the presence of the two officers wasn’t enough, he definitely felt safe now.

“Did you get him?” Kurapika asked the two officers from over Leorio’s shoulder.

“Kurapika, is it? I’m Officer Knuckle, and this is Officer Shoot.” The shorter of the two officers said, gesturing to his partner. “We’d like to ask you a couple of questions if that’s okay?”

Kurapika gave a shaky nod and let Leorio help him up to the couch. As he collapsed onto the couch, Leorio sat beside him and ran a hand across his back in soothing circles.

“Well, we’ve checked your property and it looks like there’s no sign of your attacker.” Officer Knuckle said, his eyes gleaming with a patriotic sort of determination. It was thoroughly distracting. “He must have made a run for it.”

Kurapika blinked, “No sign of him?”

“Just the great big mess in your back garden – broken boards, ash everywhere. Looks like you put up quite the fight.” Officer Knuckle said, giving Kurapika an impressed nod. A bout of nausea shook Kurapika’s stomach. Ash? So, he hadn’t imagined things at all.

“We’ve called another patrol in to scout the area for your attacker.” Officer Knuckle continued, “But our first priority is your safety, of course.”

Horrifying images of the man’s death filled Kurapika’s head all over again. A shiver wracked through his body. The police wouldn’t find him. No one would. He was just a pile of ash on the back porch now.

“Did you manage to get a good look at the attacker?” Officer Shoot asked.

Kurapika nodded furiously, “Yes. I know him. He’s a friend of my neighbour.”

Beside him, Leorio stiffened and his hand stopped rubbing his back momentarily. “Are you saying one of Chrollo’s friends did this?” Leorio asked darkly.

The two police officers exchanged looks. Officer Shoot took down some notes and then looked at Kurapika: “Can you give us a description of your attacker?”

To the best of his ability, Kurapika described Chrollo’s late friend, trying desperately to bat away the images of the man’s melting flesh from his mind. The man was dead and his neighbour didn’t even know yet. Would Chrollo be upset? Undoubtedly.

The officers’ questioning continued, and Kurapika answered, tactfully leaving out the parts where the man had supernaturally sharp teeth and had then literally melted in front of him. Somehow, he did not think that would go over very well.

When the officers were finally satisfied and left, Kurapika ignored Leorio’s concerned yelp and raced into the backyard. Sure enough, there on the porch was a pile of ashes, albeit smaller having been worn away by the gentle morning breeze. He was not going crazy then. A man had attacked him only hours ago and had burned to death under the light of the morning sun.

It was like something straight out of his copy of _Dracula_ , or _Twilight_ (Kurapika had watched all the films, as it was one of Leorio’s guilty pleasures, a discovery he made after finding a Team Jacob shirt in his room. Kurapika, surprisingly, had not minded them either). But that wasn’t possible, right? That was just fictitious bullshit designed to scare (or in the case of _Twilight_ , titillate).

But people did not just spontaneously combust in the light of the morning sun, either. That was not a thing that usually happened. So, what? Was he just hallucinating now? Was that big guy just gonna pop by again and get the jump on him? Or had he imagined the whole attack? Was he going to borrow some books from Chrollo only to see the guy sitting at Chrollo’s dining table, feet up on the polished wood?

But the man had had _fangs_. And there were ashes strewn all over his porch. There was no mistaking it. Kurapika had been attacked by a _vampire._

_._

_._


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika does some Extreme Research!  
> Chrollo is Really Creepy Wow~!  
> Gon is Cute!! (and wow oh my god really murderous yikeS)  
> Kurapika contemplates the ethics of wearing a Sexy Nun Costume in front of a twelve-year old and subsequently gets felt up by an anemic mall-goth!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> loving all your theories, comments, kudos!!! thank you so much to everyone for responding, it inspires me to keep writing!  
> loveDDD LOVED the theories so much (KEEP THEM COMING I LOVE READING THEM!) - in this case, the romanisation of the names in this fic is just a little nod to Togashi's quirky language in HxH. i have a shirt with curarpikt on it and it makes me giggle.

After holing himself indoors for a whole day after the “incident” (minus the time spent making an official statement at the police station), Kurapika braved the great outdoors as soon as the sun came up the next day and headed to the library. It was his day off, but if he was going to get the bottom of this whole vampire business, he needed to do some research. There was no way the police would believe that he had been attacked by a vampire, so it was up to him to figure it all out.

It was very likely that his next-door neighbour was a vampire or was at the very least, fraternising with them. Afterall, if Chrollo’s friend had been a vampire, then it was very likely that Chrollo was one too. It would certainly explain why he never went out during the day except when it was overcast, and always seemed to work at night. Then of course, the only time Kurapika had seen Chrollo eat anything was at the dinner party and he had barely touched his plate at all. And then there was all Chrollo’s other strange friends… were they vampires too? They all seemed quite close-knit, and vampirism did not seem like something you could hide easily from people you were close to. And of all his friends that Kurapika had seen so far, Hisoka certainly seemed vampiric. Either way, Chrollo was potentially dangerous and Kurapika needed to be able to defend himself and Leorio.

It did not take long for Kurapika to snag all the books on vampirism and mythology from the shelves. He piled them onto his trolley and headed to the computers that were as far away from the kid’s section and the toy library as possible. Children were cute, but they were noisy too.

There were hundreds of articles on vampirism, most of them being book reviews on trashy YA novels and edgy adult novels. Not exactly helpful. But some were comparative pieces on depictions of vampires in mythology throughout the ages, which definitely had a bit more substance to them. So, as Kurapika scanned through the online resources and the books he had picked up, he began to take notes.

A lot of the so-called tell-tale signs and weaknesses of vampire seemed suspect. Did vampires really not cast a reflection? That seemed far too easy a sign… then again, Kurapika could not recall having seen a mirror in the few parts of Chrollo’s house he had visited (but it was not unheard of for people to not keep a mirror in their kitchen or living room). Then one source he had read mentioned that vampires could not resist the spread of grain, i.e. a vampire would be unable to help themselves from picking up spilled grain. But that seemed so far-fetched and ridiculous, that he dismissed it out of propriety (at the very least, he was having trouble coming up with a viable excuse if he got caught dumping dried corn on Chrollo’s front lawn). Then there was garlic. Somehow, he was not completely sold on the garlic thing, but it was relatively cheap at the grocer, so he circled where he had written down ‘garlic’. It was worth a shot at least.

There was no consensus on the silver thing. Some sources insisted it only worked on werewolves, others claimed it worked on vampires too. Oh well, Kurapika was writing it down anyway. His fingers idly played with one of the earrings tickling his neck. They had been his mother’s. Pure silver with a ruby stone at the base of each. If Chrollo tried to get to his neck, maybe the earrings would be a deterrent. He did not really have money to go about buying silver things, but it was something worth looking into, right? If he hit an op-shop, maybe he could find some silverware or jewellery there at a discounted price.

Holy water? That might be a bit difficult. Kurapika could imagine how that conversation would go. If he just waltzed into a church and asked the priest there, would they just give it to him? No, there would be awkward questions that he would not be able to answer. But maybe… the internet? People sold all sorts of things on there. Well, it was worth writing down. If the worst-case scenario was occurring, and his disturbingly attractive next-door neighbour really was a vampire, well he might as well start an embarrassing conversation with a priest or buy some dud bath water off the internet.

Wooden stake? That was do-able. The hard-ware store was just a five-minute drive from the library, and it was not unheard of to be purchasing wooden planks. He could easily borrow Leorio’s tools to whittle them down into something workable.

Sunlight was also an option, as he had been unfortunately exposed to. He could buy a UV lamp or just throw a brick through one of Chrollo’s blacked out windows. It would be trickier to lure him outside, but if all else failed he might just have to.

Fire was easy. He just needed to stock up on some matches and kerosene. Time to torch the creepy motherfucker- 

“Vampires, Kurapika?”

Kurapika jumped, banging his knees on the desk. He turned to see Melody, his co-worker, and his frustration quickly melted away. Melody’s very presence seemed to soothe his worries away, no matter the occasion, whether it be a bad workday or dealing with vampires.

“Just doing some reading.” Kurapika said quickly, “I’m reading _Dracula_ and I got interested in the history and folklore of vampires. People will invent the strangest things to explain away death and disease.”

“Well, I’m glad you aren’t studying for once.” Melody said, her smile as soft as always. “You need to relax more.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Honestly, I don’t think you should be here on your day off either.” Melody said, her voice laced with concern.

“Are you trying to stop me from reading? Me?”

“Yeah, I know. But don’t work too hard, alright?” Melody giggled, before nodding towards the direction of the share-office at the back of the library building. “You should be more like Basho – he’s secretly writing poetry under his desk again instead of working.”

“I was just finishing up actually.” Kurapika replied, closing the tabs on the computer, and packing up his books. “I’m going to go do a bit of shopping – just to unwind, you know?”

Melody beamed.

Kurapika did not have the heart nor the insanity to tell her that he was going to the hardware store to buy some wooden planks.

* * *

Cursing under his breath, Kurapika plucked a splinter from his thumb. He sucked the wound, pouting as he did so. As of today, he had a newfound respect for carpenters and handymen alike. Nailing together two bits of wood sounded easy in theory, but now he realised it was a bit more complicated than that. A sigh of disappointment filled the room as Kurapika looked at his poor-excuses for crucifixes. Well, so long as they worked, there should not be a problem. But what were the rules surrounding it? Did your crucifix have to be masterfully crafted, embedded with jewels, bathed in holy-water, or forged with metal? Did it have to be hand-made, or was just store-bought fine?

_Far-out_ , Kurapika thought listlessly. This vampire-hunting business was far more complex than he could have ever imagined. At least the stakes he had carved were more-or less the right shape.

“Uhhh, Kurapika?”

Kurapika jumped from where he was hunched over his work-desk, his borrowed toolbox rattling noisily. Relief flooded him when he realised it was just Leorio, poking his head through the door and looking very concerned. Which was fair, given the current state of Kurapika’s room.

“Yes, Leorio?”

“Are you okay?”

Kurapika frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s with the garlic hanging from the windows? And the crucifixes –” Leorio suddenly paused, having spotted the hardware store brand on the plastic shopping bags “- did you carve all these? What’s going on?!”

“It’s for Halloween.” Kurapika said lamely, suddenly glad that Leorio had not gone through the bags further, given that he had also bought a UV torch, kerosene, and matches. Oh, now he would have to see this lie through. It wasn’t like he could tell Leorio the truth. Not yet. He needed _proof_ first.

“But that’s weeks away!”

“Yes, and look how terrible these crucifixes look. They’re all wonky! By the time it’s Halloween, I’ll have improved and they’ll look marginally better at the least.”

Leorio pinched the bridge of his nose exasperatedly: “I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to throw the biggest Halloween party you’ve ever seen.”

“But I thought you hated parties?”

It was half true. Whilst Kurapika enjoyed hanging around his friends, he did not enjoy deafening music, alcohol sloshing everywhere but into his mouth, hangovers, the sounds of people vomiting, and the aggressive advances of people who seemed to think that Kurapika was, quote unquote, a Hot Piece of Ass (and that was a polite rendition of what they _really_ said to his face).

“It’s for Gon and Killua.” Kurapika continued, desperately trying to flesh out the lie. Oh no, now he would have to throw the biggest Halloween party ever (albeit, a child-friendly version, which was not much better). Curse his lack of foresight! “They love Halloween!”

Leorio nodded, looking a bit miffed: “Well, okay. When were you going to tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you too, I’m sorry.” Kurapika said, “I should have run it by you first.” He was a terrible, no-good, very bad person. When this was over, he was going to take strides to become the certifiable Best-Friend-Slash-Roommate Ever. At that, Leorio smiled and nodded. Then he left, leaving Kurapika to stew in his thoughts. Hunting vampires while juggling his work-life balance may be beyond his capabilities.

* * *

“What are you reading, Pika?” Gon asked, swinging his legs excitedly.

Kurapika was babysitting again. Mito had been called in again at the casino and had all but begged Kurapika to come over and watch over her nephew. It was never really a problem (usually he brought his study materials over to Mito’s house, or she would just drop Gon off at his place instead), so Kurapika had said yes.

After Mito had dropped Gon off, Kurapika had ordered a pizza (using the money Mito had given him) and helped Gon with his homework. Then once their bellies were full and Gon’s homework was done, they sprawled out at the dining table. Gon began to play videogames whilst Kurapika continued his research on vampires, engrossed in one of the books he had borrowed from the library whilst taking note on his notepad. Unfortunately, the rather gaudy design on one of the dustjackets seemed to catch Gon’s attention (seriously, what was it with vampire books and busty women and muscular men with blood on their faces?) he momentarily put down his hand-held game to peer over Kurapika’s shoulder.

Kurapika showed Gon the book, “I’m reading about vampires.”

Gon’s face lit up like a candle, “Seriously? That’s so cool! I want to go vampire hunting!”

Kurapika blanched, but then smiled jokingly, “Oh, well, we’d need the proper tools for that. You can’t go vampire hunting without the proper protection!”

Gon’s brow furrowed, and he clasped his chin thoughtfully: “You’re right! What kills vampires?”

“Great question - vampires are known to hate the sun, some religious symbols, consecrated ground, and fire!”

With shining eyes, Gon began to take notes in his own sketchpad, emulating Kurapika.

“What are you writing?”

“All their weaknesses!” Gon declared loudly, before looking up at Kurapika: “That’s what you were writing too, isn’t it?”

It was entirely too difficult not to smile in the face of such enthusiasm. Kurapika laughed: “Yes, but I was also comparing those reported weaknesses against patterns I’ve observed in those around me. If enough of the weaknesses match up, well… you know what that means.” He pushed the checklist across the coffee-table to show him:

_ Quwrof’s Weaknesses _

_Silver [ ]_

_Crucifixes [ ]_

_Other religious symbols (?) [ ]_

_Wooden stake (to the heart) [ ]_

_Sunlight/UV Radiation [O] – it hurt his friend, so it should hurt him too._

_Fire [ ]_

_Holy water [ ]_

_Consecrated ground [ ]_

_Consecrated items [ ]_

It was still in progress, as he had not determined which of the so-called weaknesses were bullshit or not. Of course, he knew by now that sunlight was effective. As for the rest, he was not sure… especially spread of grain (that sounded like total nonsense). And surely a stake through the chest would kill just about anybody!

Gon’s jaw went slack, “Are you really hunting a vampire?!”

“It’s just a game.” Kurapika lied, not wanting to fill Gon’s head with complete fluff. If he was wrong about Chrollo, he did not want Gon to blurt out such things in front of the man. On the other hand, if he was _right_ (heaven-forbid), then he did not want Gon to get hurt. “But it’s fun, don’t you think?”

Gon giggled, “Oooo! I wanna know if my neighbour Palm is a vampire!”

“Now you’re getting it.”

“So, how do we find out?”

Kurapika nodded and slid another piece of paper towards Gon: “Okay, so here are the patterns we need to watch out for.”

_How to Spot a Vampire_

_Aversion to sunlight_

  * _Covers up skin to avoid direct contact [ ]_
  * _Stays indoors during sunlight hours [ ]_
  * _Only comes out at night [ ]_
  * _Avoids sunlight if outdoors during the day: e.g. carries a parasol, wears a big hat, travels under shade [ ]_



_Aversion to religion_

  * _Refuses to step foot in a church/mosque/religious ground [ ]_
  * _Acts oddly when presented with religious/consecrated objects [ ]_



_Other signs to watch for_

  * _Will not enter property without an invitation (note: whether property needs to be private, or invitation needs to be explicit, it is not yet known, this may vary according to type of vampire) [ ]_
  * _Moves around frequently (note: very few vampires are so well-established that they can disguise themselves within a community for prolonged amounts of time, so to avoid detection, many move around frequently for safety and for variety of diet) [ ]_
  * _Does not eat or drink human food (note: it is not known if they can digest human food, but could be a disguise tactic) [ ]_
  * _Garlic – valued for its apotropaic properties, this plant is one of many believed to ward off vampires. (note: watch behaviour of suspect carefully when exposed to garlic, but do NOT attempt to stake someone with a garlic allergy without further proof) [ ]_
  * _Will avoid open flame (note: vampires are believed to be flammable) [ ]_
  * _Will not wear or handle objects made of silver: e.g. look out for jewellery and personal objects that may contain silver [ ]_
  * _No reflection (note: it is believed that vampires do not cast a reflection. Suspect will not own a mirror, or will avoid public places that have obvious reflective surfaces) [ ]_
  * _Possesses unworldly psychical prowess: e.g. watch out for feats of impossible strength, super speed, and lack of injuries after trauma [ ]_
  * _Glamour,_ _a method by which the vampire attracts its prey: e.g. this person might seem very attractive, be charismatic, or able to allure people in with abnormal ease, (warning: some people are just ridiculously good-looking, do NOT attempt to stake in the chest without explicit proof) [ ]_
  * _Fangs – this one is self-explanatory [ ]_



“This isn’t a comprehensive list of course,” Kurapika said, “But it’s certainly a start to understanding and protecting ourselves from vampires. Some of these might not be true at all, but it’s certainly worth testing.”

At this point, Gon’s legs were kicking the sofa so hard with excitement that it was threatening to break: “I’m gonna show this to Killua!”

It was then that Kurapika had a premonition of sorts: in his mind he could clearly see two overly-enthusiastic twelve years olds armed to the teeth with poorly-made wooden-stakes, running amok through the neighbourhood and threatening to stab anyone who so much as blinked in their general direction. Suitably disturbed by this vision, Kurapika added sternly: “Okay, but promise me you won’t actually harass your neighbour or anyone else. This is all just fun and games, okay?”

With a sudden seriousness, Gon nodded. Kurapika relaxed.

* * *

The next day at work did little to soothe the unrest in Kurapika’s heart. For most of the day, he had been wrapping up the new orders of books and labelling them, whilst also sorting out his usual stack of paperwork. Not including looking after the books themselves, there was always something happening at the library, whether it be an author signing, a kids’ activity, or just local clubs meeting up, so the work never ended. But the mountain of tasks that Kurapika was tackling had little to do with the fearful palpitations in his chest.

No, what was wrong today, was that Chrollo was here.

It did not surprise him in the least that Chrollo would go to the library – the man clearly loved books as much as Kurapika did. But it did unnerve him that it was the middle of the day, the sun was glaring outside, and Chrollo strolled right through the front doors (with his big, black umbrella perched over his shoulder – and that was ALL kinds of suspicious) and made a beeline straight to where Kurapika was busying himself with putting away some books.

“Hello, how are you?” Kurapika said congenially, hoping the smile plastered on his face seemed far more genuine than it actually was. It helped that Chrollo was dressed rather handsomely today, with a navy jacket over black jumper and slacks. The tie peeking out over his jumper was certainly smart – and doing all kinds of horrible things to Kurapika’s libido.

It occurred to him then, that he had not really interacted with Chrollo since the night he was attacked. It was odd – if it was Kurapika, he would be concerned about the whereabouts of his friend, but Chrollo did not look the slightest bit concerned. And Kurapika had seen the police knocking on his door and talking to him. Was he going to bring it up at all? Surely, he would want to hear Kurapika’s version of the story and find out where his friend was. But the man had not even come around to Kurapika’s house to check. Instead, here he was now, at the library, smiling like there was nothing wrong at all.

“Wonderful.” Chrollo said, not seeming to note anything odd about Kurapika’s behaviour. “It’s a beautiful day outside.”

“I wish I could enjoy it.”

“Work is droll, but at least you are surrounded with books. Ah, that reminds me. Did you get the book I left for you? Leorio said he would pass it along.”

There was an expectant gleam in Chrollo’s eyes.

“Yes, thank you.” Kurapika said, eyes flickering anywhere but at his neighbour. “I’ve been meaning to drop by and thank you properly, but I’ve just been so busy. It’s a beautiful book.”

“I thought you would enjoy it.” Chrollo said, leaning against the nearest shelf and offering Kurapika a sweet smile. “It’s one of my favourites. The pictures are all hand-drawn. It’s simply stunning.”

“Are you here to borrow a book?” Kurapika ventured, unable to stave his curiosity. “You have plenty of books at your house, don’t you?”

“That is true, but I was hoping for a recommendation from _you.”_ Chrollo said, one hand coming up to brush Kurapika’s shoulder, making his breath catch in his throat. A shiver ran down his spine as Chrollo’s spidery fingers toyed gently at his blond hair. If he was right, then the raw strength alone in those hands was deadly. But as Kurapika dismissively pushed his hair behind his ear, Chrollo suddenly recoiled back as if he had been burned. Whilst he was grateful as the air filled his lungs again, he also felt an unwelcome bite of disappointment.

“Nice earring.” Chrollo said, his eyes narrowed.

“It’s a family heirloom.” Kurapika said innocently.

Was Chrollo reacting to the silver of his earring? Interesting.

“Silver?”

“And ruby. Are you alright?” Kurapika searched Chrollo’s face for any sign of discomfort but found only amusement. A jolt of surprise ran through him as Chrollo reached out and touched the earring, rolling it between two fingers thoughtfully. The skin of his neck burned as Chrollo’s knuckles brushed against it.

“It’s beautiful.” Chrollo murmured thoughtfully, before retracting his (entirely unscathed) hand.

Face burning, Kurapika bit back his annoyance. So, if Chrollo was a vampire then the silver thing was nonsense; or at least it only worked on werewolves.

_~~Silver [ ]~~ _

“Thank you.” Kurapika said, somewhat icily. Did his neighbour even have a weakness? “But I do have to get back to work. If you want a recommendation, you’ll have to follow me.”

Undeterred by this, Chrollo’s eyes blazed: “Gladly.”

Surprisingly, Chrollo really did seem to be after a recommendation, and dogged Kurapika’s steps around the library until he finally caved (causing his co-workers, and a few regulars, to look at the pair strangely). With a heavy frown, Kurapika pressed a copy of _The Chain-User and the Thief_ _King_ into his neighbour’s arms. Too late, he realised the implication of recommending Chrollo a love story (and a love story between two men at that), but it was one of his favourites and he was far too irritated to think of another book. He could only hope that Chrollo would not read too much into it, but he already knew that was unlikely (and whether or not the charismatic Thief King reminded him of Chrollo was his own business, thank you very much).

“A curious recommendation.” Chrollo said, eyebrows raised as he read the dust jacket. Kurapika blushed, knowing that the synopsis on the back was quite revealing about the plot being a love story. How embarrassing.

“It’s a bit overlooked because of the mixture of genres – people can be sceptical of romance and fantasy, but it’s very good. If it had come out a few years later, well, everyone would be raving about it.” Kurapika said, piling a new shipment of books on his trolley, all of which had been freshly labelled and wrapped with a protective plastic layer.

Finally, seeming satisfied with the recommendation, Chrollo left to borrow the book. Only then, did Kurapika breathe a sigh of relief. Odd behaviour aside, he did enjoy hanging out with Chrollo. No one else would listen to him rave about books, nor talk to him about books with just as much, if not more enthusiasm, in return. They were both quiet souls, and Kurapika appreciated their connection, platonic or otherwise. He really, _really_ hoped he was wrong about him.

* * *

To Kurapika’s horror, Chrollo did not seemed deterred in the slightest by the fact one of his friends was missing, nor Kurapika’s now cold behaviour (which was wholly fuelled by suspicions of vampirism). In fact, Chrollo was still very much interested in pursuing a rapport with him. It had gotten to the point where Kurapika would spot his neighbour loitering outside the front of his own house at night, doing aimless things like checking the mail-box repeatedly and pacing up and down the front path, never mind if his friends were inside at the same time or if he was about to leave for work. Kurapika might have interpreted this as simply odd behaviour, had it not been for the rest of Chrollo’s recent mannerisms. On multiple occasions now, he had intercepted Kurapika trying to get to his car to go to university or work to strike up conversation – upon which Kurapika had to run for it, or else Chrollo would simply not stop talking.

It was strange. The man seemed desperate to _talk._ Was he lonely? Not possible. His friends were almost always meandering around his house, chatting loudly into the late hours of the night. If anything, his loneliness was self-imposed, given the amount of time he spent ignoring his friends and instead gazing up at the night sky with a moody jut to his lip.

Perhaps it was just an emo thing.

Counterpoint: he was a creepy vampire!

Even Leorio was getting concerned, poking his head through the curtains alongside Kurapika and muttering: “Is he okay?” or “What on _earth_ is he doing now?” But as to his fixation on securing Kurapika’s attention, well Leorio just chalked it up to friendliness (much to Kurapika’s building irritation).

Which is why Kurapika was more than happy to continue finding excuses to get out of the house and be literally anywhere else, which is how he found himself babysitting Gon much more frequently.

Since Kurapika had brought up vampires, Gon had become _inspired_. The last few times he had come over they had been stuck watching age-appropriate vampire films (and one not so appropriate one during which Kurapika had tried to cover Gon’s eyes and turn off the TV, only to have his hand pushed away and the remote mysteriously disappear). Naturally, his obsession had ventured into the realm of art, and he had subsequently presented Kurapika with a (surprisingly masterful) drawing of himself and Killua as vampire hunters. He would also frequently regale Kurapika with tales of his and Killua’s vampire-hunting exploits, including one time where they had followed Killua’s older brother Illumi for a whole-day “just in case”. Kurapika had stifled a giggle at that before fixing a disapproving look on his face that Gon did not buy for one second. 

All the silliness was a balm to the strangeness that had so quickly enveloped his life. But he was soon to discover that like everything else, even his time with Gon was not safe from Chrollo’s far-reaching influence.

“Pika!” Gon called, on one such evening, from where he was standing on the couch and peering through the curtains. “There’s some weird samurai guy outside the front of the house. He keeps trampling Aunt Mito’s plants!”

Kurapika shot up from the dining table and raced over to the couch to see outside. It was relatively dark outside, save for the eerie glow of the streetlamps. But sure enough, there was a tall, reedy man with his hair tied back in a top knot on his head, looking strangely like a samurai warrior. Recognition dawned on Kurapika, as he realised that he had seen this man hanging around Chrollo’s house on multiple occasions.

“Hey!” Kurapika yelled through cupped hands, “This is private property. If you don’t clear out, I’m going to call the police!”

The man jumped, clearly surprised at have being caught snooping around. Then he marched right up to the door, like he belonged there. Kurapika ducked behind the door frame, eager to put space between them.

“You’re Kurapika, right? I’m Nobunaga.” The man said, nodding at him politely. Up close, Kurapika found that like the rest of Chrollo’s friends, Nobunaga’s face was ashen and gaunt, as if all the colour in his cheeks had been sucked right out. The pale colour of his skin did not help things, making him look almost skeletal. “You’ve probably seen me at Chrollo’s house. He’s a friend of yours too, right?”

Kurapika shifted uncomfortably, “Something like that. Can I help you?”

Nobunaga frowned, “Yeah. You can start by telling me where Uvo is!”

Kurapika blinked. Who was Uvo? And why did this stranger think he knew where he was?

“You know, Uvogin? He’s a big tall guy?” Nobunaga said, stretching his hand out above his head. “Like, really, really tall? Looks like a bear?”

Oh. Oh, no.

Despite himself, Kurapika’s eyes misted over. The horrible images of that night came flooding back into his head. Somehow, he could smell the acrid scent of burning flesh and hair. And he could hear the man’s awful screams as he had died. So much screaming. As the sensations flooded back, it was as if the room had begun to sway around him. He still could not understand Uvogin’s actions, but an immeasurable sadness clutched at his heart to think that he had died so violently. Even if he had been a total stranger. With a shaking hand, Kurapika clutched the door frame for support.

“Ch-Chrollo’s friend?”

The effect was immediate. Nobunaga’s face lit up: “Yeah, him! The Boss!”

Boss? Wait, was Chrollo in the mafia now? Or was Nobunaga just an employee? Or both?! Could Chrollo be a vampire _and_ a mafia boss? God, pick a genre for chrissakes. This was getting more complex than the political thriller _The Kakin Family Conspiracy: Battle of the Princes_.

“Kurapika!”

Oh, heavens no. It was Gon.

“Stay inside, please, Gon.” Kurapika called back over his shoulder, before turning back to face Nobunaga. “He… passed away.” Kurapika finished, for better lack of being able to describe the horror of seeing Uvogin burning alive in front of him.

“Did you kill him?” Nobunaga looked horrified.

“No!” Kurapika said, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. If from the trauma, or from seeing Nobunaga’s sadness, he wasn’t sure. “I don’t know what happened. He was on the porch and then the sun came up-”

Nobunaga’s face was white, “Oh, fuck.”

Hot tear drops snaked down Kurapika’s face, leaving a sticky trail in their wake. He hardly ever cried, but now, it was like all the horrible things that had happened over the last month were finally catching up to him. And here he was, crying in front of some stranger.

“Chrollo is going to be so pissed.” Nobunaga muttered quietly, weeping tears of his own and covering his mouth in unbridled shock. “Shit, shit, shit. How am I gonna explain this to him? And fuck I’m not even supposed to be here-”

Kurapika’s eyes narrowed, “What has Chrollo got to do with it?”

Nobunaga jumped, as if he had forgotten that Kurapika was still there.

“Nothing, nothing at all. He’ll just be sad about Uvo, that’s all.” Nobunaga said hastily, shaking his head dismissively. But Kurapika was sharper than that.

“I never mentioned how Uvogin died, I just said the sun came up and you knew what happened.” Kurapika said, his frown deepening. “So, you must know what he was then. You’re one too. How many of you are in on it? Is Chrollo the ringleader then? Is that why you call him Boss?”

“Listen, the less you know at this point, the better, kiddo.” Nobunaga snapped, before muttering to himself again. “…Chrollo won’t be happy about this at all.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No!” Nobunaga said, getting angrier. “This is all a big misunderstanding. If we just sit down and talk about this-”

Kurapika stood beneath the doorframe defiantly. No invitation, huh? It had worked on Uvogin, so it would probably work on Nobunaga too, right? There was no way he was letting this guy in with Gon in the house – no matter what his intentions were.

He lifted his chin defiantly: “That’s what we’re doing isn’t it?”

“Look, if you just let me in, we can all sit down and talk about this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you want to ‘talk’.” Kurapika said, “But this isn’t my house. So, we’re going to talk right here.”

Nobunaga frowned at the door frame, his teeth pulling back in a snarl. Aha! He needed an invitation. That was valuable information indeed – if both Uvogin and Nobunaga needed invitations, then Chrollo would be similarly affected!

“Come on in, weird samurai guy!” Gon, who had of course been eavesdropping the whole time, called out from behind Kurapika.

Just like that, Kurapika’s blood froze. _That was an invitation._

Nobunaga rolled his eyes, “Jeez, finally. Like I said, I’m just here to talk. I mean, I’ll probably have to call Chrollo over here for damage control, but you just need to hear me out.”

With that, he pushed past Kurapika easily and walked into the house, the sound of his footfalls as terrible as thunder crashing in the sky. The inhuman strength alone made Kurapika stumble backwards. Now there was nothing between the vampire and Gon. Oh no, no, no, no, no-

_“Gon, no!”_

But it was not Gon that he should have been worried about. In a flurry of green, Gon Freecs came flying into the hallway with one of Kurapika’s hastily carved stakes grasped tightly in his fists and a determined steel in his eyes. Kurapika struggled to find his footing, but it was too late.

Nobunaga stared at the tiny boy hurtling at him at full speed: “What the fu-”

Like a beautiful baby bird taking flight for the first time, Gon leapt across the room and tackled Nobunaga to the floor. Then, with his arms aimed high above his head, he drove the stake deep into Nobunaga’s heart. Kurapika watched on in horror as Gon and the vampire collapsed against the floor in a tangle of limbs. Nobunaga let out a horrible scream. Then, like ashes rising from a fire, his skin crumpled and exploded into the air like confetti out of a party streamer. Only very, very gory. Gon dusted himself off and jumped to his feet, a triumphant grin on his face.

“And that’s how you kill a vampire!” Gon screeched victoriously, as if he hadn’t just taken down a man three times his size and plunged a stake into his dead heart. “You can be my partner in crime, Kurapika! I can’t wait to tell Killua!”

“Gon, what have you done?” Kurapika moaned, clutching at his face helplessly. Oh, god, there was a dead man (or what was left of him) in Aunt Mito’s entrance hall and Gon was dancing on the remains. He more than qualified for Worst Babysitter of the Year award and was a contender for Worst Babysitter of the Century to be sure.

“I tricked him!” Gon said, practically vibrating off the ground. “I gave him an invitation and then BAM!”

_Wooden stake (to the heart) [O]_

It was now apparent that stakes _did_ in fact kill vampires. But Kurapika had never expected that it would be this messy and downright traumatising. A sick feeling crawled its way into Kurapika’s stomach. He knew one thing for sure now: Chrollo was somehow involved with Uvogin’s attack. And like both Uvogin and Nobunaga, that meant Chrollo was undoubtedly a vampire.

* * *

No matter how he thought about it, Kurapika knew that Chrollo was dangerous. The evidence just kept piling up: Uvogin had attacked the house, Nobunaga had spied on him and Gon, and the gruesome murders that were most likely Chrollo’s doing that kept occurring around the neighbourhood.

If he did not do something about Chrollo, then he was certain that either he or Leorio could get hurt. At the very least, he knew that it would only be so long before Chrollo struck again and hurt someone else in the neighbourhood – so, how could he sit by and do nothing, knowing what Chrollo really was? Simply put, he could not. It was up to him to do something.

Already Gon had been put in danger, and for that Kurapika could not forgive himself. How could he have let his guard down so easily? If the element of surprise had not been on their side, well… he shuddered to think of what might have happened. The ensuing conversation had not been easy either. He certainly hoped that he had conveyed to Gon the severity of the situation – and that the boy needed to be careful and not recklessly endanger himself. This was no game. Not anymore.

Nevertheless, life seemed determined to carry on around him, oblivious to the startling reality that was a blood-thirsty creature of the night living just next door, hellbent on destroying humanity. But it was only a few days later, that Kurapika would finally get his chance to set things right.

* * *

There was a frown worrying at Kurapika’s brow as he stared at himself in the rear-view mirror of his car. It certainly wasn’t the best Halloween outfit in the world, but it would just have to do. He had all but forgotten about his proclamation to Leorio that he would throw “the biggest Halloween party ever”. In fact, it was Leorio who reminded him the other day, worried about Kurapika’s lack of party supplies save for the wonky crucifixes he had made. As anyone who went to parties would tell you, at the very least, you needed snacks and drinks – of which there was very little in the house, and definitely not enough to entertain a group of rambunctious twelve year-olds.

Kurapika did not have the energy, nor the will to throw “the biggest Halloween party ever”. To his annoyance, Leorio had already been talking to Mito about Kurapika’s (non-existent) Halloween plans, and she had apparently been “delighted” at the idea. Which now left him in the unenviable position of having to throw the party anyway – which was not an option. He could not allow Gon and Killua anywhere near Chrollo, which meant that he could not have them in the house. On the other hand, he did not want to put Mito out of sorts by hosting the party at her house (he was sure she would say yes, but his manners would not allow him to impose on her in such a way). So, after some thought, he had managed to convince Leorio and Mito that it would be better if he just took Gon and Killua and their friends trick-or-treating instead, which had seemed to satisfy all parties.

Which brought him back to the now, where he was currently wearing the shabbiest excuse for a Halloween costume of all time. To his disappointment, the stores had been all but sold out of costumes, with only props and poorly-disguised sex outfits left-over (and he was most certainly _not_ going to dress up as a Sexy Nurse or a Naughty Nun in front of Gon and Killua). So, he had foraged through the Halloween bargain bins and managed to pry out a pair of bright-red Devil horns, a harness with black and red wings, a belt with a forked-tail attached, and a plastic pitchfork. Trick-or-treating as a child was one of his fonder memories, the best part being wearing matching-outfits with Pairo (they had done it all – Peanut Butter and Jelly, Knight and Dragon, Vampire and Werewolf, and so on), so it was unfortunate he hadn’t found a cooler outfit. But this would just have to do.

The wings on his back fluttered as he adjusted his black denim jacket to a more comfortable position, his tail swishing behind him as he walked up the pathway to Mito’s house. There was no way he was going trick-or-treating after dark around his street, considering that Chrollo was right next-door, so he had told Mito that he would pick-up the kids from her house (it made him feel bad, but he knew that this was the only way to keep them safe).

Gon swung open the front door with a wide smile: “Kurapika! You look so cool!”

Gon’s shockingly close brush with death had not dampened his spirits in the slightest, and if anything, he seemed even more enthused about vampires. So, it was to no real surprise that he found that both Gon and Killua were dressed up as Van Helsing. They had been unable to compromise on who should be the vampire hunter and eventually decided that they should _both_ go as him. Meanwhile, Killua had seen fit to invite his younger sister and brother. Alluka was dressed as a witch, with a wide purple and black skirt and floppy pointed hat, whilst Kalluto was wearing a pair of cat-ears, with two fluffy black paws and a tail to match. They all looked adorable.

“You all look great!” Kurapika smiled, after having taking several pictures for himself, Leorio, Mito, and even the ever elusive Zoldyck parents. “Are you ready to go?”

Gon and Killua punched the air, while Alluka practically vibrated with excitement. Kalluto merely nodded, but the gleam in his eyes gave away his raw excitement. The allure of sugar and Halloween mayhem was too strong.

“Good! Grab your buckets. Let’s get going before all the good candy is gone!”

* * *

Despite the energy of the kids, Kurapika found himself looking over his shoulder as they walked from house to house. He assessed each house before they approached it, as well as each homeowner that greeted them, and made sure that none of the kids wandered off (which turned out to be damned near impossible, but somehow he managed). Even the presence of parents shepherding their costumed kids, the neighbourhood watch in their bright orange vests, as well as the occasional emergency vehicle (given the recent killings), could not quell his nerves.

Needless to say, by the end of the night Kurapika was entirely worn out. With Gon, Killua, Alluka, and Kalluto all nodding off on Mito’s couch ready to be picked up by their parents, Kurapika finally headed home.

And it was just his luck that Chrollo was sitting out on the porch of his house with his long legs propped up on the wooden outdoor-dining table, as Kurapika rolled up on the driveway.

For a moment, Kurapika’s hand froze on the car door. How fast would he have to run to get to the door before Chrollo could? Kurapika had the advantage of course – the hedge separating their houses, not to mention the distance between Chrollo’s porch and Kurapika’s front door ensured that. If Chrollo used super speed (if that was even a vampiric ability), he would give himself away. But maybe at this point, he didn’t care and would be happy to kill Kurapika and risk revealing himself to a nosy neighbour or two.

Taking a deep breath, Kurapika unlocked the car door. Then he rushed out, slamming the door behind him and racing to the front door. It was close!

“Kurapika! Over here.”

He stopped mid-run, and that was his mistake. Unable to help himself, his feet rooted themselves to the ground. If Chrollo could simply command him not to move, then that was a major problem. Honestly, he couldn’t tell if it was fear or just vampirism that was halting his movements.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Kurapika offered lamely, willing his feet to move. Slowly, somehow, his feet seemed to regain their movement and he found himself twisting on the spot to face his neighbour. The door wasn’t too far away at this point. If he didn’t have to move closer to Chrollo, then he wouldn’t. Any closer than this, and he might as well offer himself up on a silver platter. And he was rather certain that even this far away was not safe. When Kurapika made no move towards his neighbour, Chrollo simply walked over.

“I was just about to head out,” Chrollo said, eyes flicking up and down Kurapika with a strange gleam in his eyes. A shiver of revulsion wracked Kurapika’s frame and his silly plastic wings shook. “What have you been doing?”

“Trick-or-treating.”

The words felt like lead in his mouth. Every second spent standing this close to Chrollo was like having hot wax dripped on his skin.

Chrollo raised an eyebrow, his voice teasing: “It’s that time of the year again already? Aren’t you a bit old for that?”

“I was chaperoning Gon and his friends.” Kurapika said, stopping his feet from inching closer to the door. Then Chrollo’s eyes shifted to Kurapika’s tail, and a horrible smile pulled at his lips. Kurapika did not like it one bit. No sir.

Far too boldly, Chrollo flicked Kurapika’s tail: “Oh, I like _this.”_

The blood drained from Kurapika’s face and he froze as Chrollo’s hand came dangerously close to his body. To an outsider, the motion was playful and flirtatious. Only weeks ago, he would have swooned at the touch, but now he knew better. Those were the hands of a cold-blooded murderer.

Chrollo blinked at him, clearly feigning confusion: “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes of course.” Kurapika replied, forcing the words out, despite every cell in his body screaming at him to run. The door was only a few metres away… if he ran now, maybe he could make it. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. Gon is just one big ball of energy!”

“If you say so.”

“Yes, you know what, I’m – I’m going to turn in for the night.”

“Kurapika.”

The hairs on Kurapika’s neck stood to attention at that dangerously soft voice. In one movement, Chrollo closed the distance between them until they were standing practically chest-to-chest. There was no warmth radiating from his body, and he could not feel any breathing from his neighbour: there was no rise and fall in his chest, nor warm breath brushing over him. Standing this closely, Chrollo could easily rip his throat out, leaving him helpless to do anything. Barely daring to breath, Kurapika waited.

With a playful smile, Chrollo poked the tip of his nose: “Let’s catch up soon, okay? We have _so_ much to talk about.”

All the air left Kurapika’s lungs, barely keeping himself from shouting at the unwelcome touch. He pasted a fake-smile on his face: “Sure. Goodnight, Chrollo.”

Somehow, even with a pair of dark eyes burning holes into his back, he maintained a normal walking pace as he made his way up the front-path and through the door. It felt less like a tactical escape, and more like he was being let go. Like his fate was already out of his hands.

“Goodnight, Kurapika.” Chrollo called after him, his voice light.

He slammed the door, collapsed against the doormat, and cried.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that lucky bastard chrollo vicariously lives my dream of shamelessly groping Kurapika in his mobage devil costume.   
> ლ(́◉◞౪◟◉‵ლ)  
> the kurapika mobage cards are just *chef's kiss* (◍•ڡ•◍)❤


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika commits a few Petty Crimes (including but not limited to vehicular theft) (ง ͠ ͠° ل͜ °)ง  
> Leorio has a Terrible Day 凸(｀△´＋）  
> Gon is Here \\\\\٩(•́⌄•́๑)و////  
> Chrollo is Up to No Good (*´ ˘ `*).｡oO ( ♡ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again to everyone who has left kudos and/or a comment!!! it is so delightful to read your thoughts + speculations! hope you enjoy this chapter:

It took a while for Kurapika to gather himself again. The fear in his heart was deeply rooted, constricting his every movement and suffocating his very senses with each passing moment. Why was this happening? Never mind the fact that he was still struggling to believe that vampires were real and that he wasn’t just going crazy. But why did Chrollo have to move in next door to him? Out of all of the places in the world he could have gone to, he just had to come here. Was he just going to have to live in fear for the rest of his life, looking over his shoulder in case Chrollo and his friends were dogging his footsteps?!

Distantly, he heard the tell-tale screech of tires against asphalt coming from the direction of Chrollo’s house. Slowly, slowly, Kurapika’s breathing relaxed again. No. He was going to fight this.

What was it Chrollo had said to him just moments ago? Oh, yes. _Chrollo was leaving the house_. If there was ever a chance, then it was now. If he could find evidence and bring it to the authorities (or at the very least, Leorio), then maybe he could put a stop to this living nightmare once and for all. He would see to it that Chrollo would never hurt another living thing again.

With his heart beating wildly in his chest, he ripped off the devil props and hiked his denim jacket up further. It was time for action. After leaving a hastily written note on the counter for Leorio (who had gone to bed early, bless his heart), Kurapika shoved his crucifix in his pocket, and threw a stake, a box of matches, and his UV torch into his bum-bag, which he then slung over his shoulder. There was no time for anything else. Time was of the essence here: he wasn’t sure how long Chrollo would be gone and when he would return.

If Chrollo truly meant him harm, then Kurapika would be ready for him.

* * *

It was shockingly easy to sneak into Chrollo’s house. After pushing through the side-gate (which he unlocked easily considering he only had to slip his hand through the wooden panels of the gate and slide the barrel-bolt), he ducked around the back of the house. From there, he snuck up the back porch and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.

Kurapika’s jaw slackened. Well, Chrollo was either the most trusting guy ever, or he was incredibly confident that any thief would be no match for him (A naïve longing in the back of Kurapika’s brain, which still hadn’t been quashed despite his best efforts and the sight of two very grisly deaths, hoped it was the former).

To no surprise, the lights in the house were all switched off. Kurapika could see well enough, but he turned on the torch on his smartphone just in case he missed any evidence. The entirety of the first floor was pretty boring – kitchen, dining room, living area, sparse study, and bathrooms. He had done a quick sweep of the shelves and cupboards, as well as the drawers. Nothing of note. Kurapika tiptoed up the staircase, wincing at every creak of the floorboards. He had seen Chrollo leaving with his own two eyes, but who was to say his friends weren’t lurking around the place? Oh god, what if _Hisoka_ was here?!

Better to keep quiet.

As he reached the first landing, he found himself at the end of a long corridor with several rooms branching from it. All the doors were ajar. Holding out his smartphone in lieu of a torch, Kurapika peeked into the first room.

Spare bedroom. Boring.

He crept into the second room. A study. This seemed more promising. Kurapika entered the room and resisted the urge to flick on the light-switch. Every shadow cast by the light from his phone looked like a mass-murderer waiting to pounce, and honestly, it was not good for his heart. However, he wasn’t sure if the light would stream through the blacked-out windows, alerting Chrollo if he happened to suddenly return.

There were a few paintings on the walls, but like every other room he had been in so far, there were no photographs nor mirrors. Huh. Suspicious. Anyone who looked like Chrollo did was sure to have a mirror somewhere. That was just the natural order of things. If Kurapika couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Chrollo’s stupid, handsome face, then he was sure the man himself had stared too long in the mirror once or twice. His jawline alone could have cut through steel. The vampire theory was getting more and more plausible.

As he looked around the room, he shrank back at the mass of books spilling over the shelves and stacked on the floor like skyscrapers, teetering uneasily. Chrollo had not been exaggerating then, when he said he hoarded books. It was like heaven. A very messy heaven, but heaven, nonetheless. A small part of Kurapika wished desperately that he would find no evidence at all, so that he could continue to borrow Chrollo’s books without fear of being eaten alive. But he knew in his heart that they were way past that point.

After what seemed like ages sifting through the filing cabinet and drawers in the room, Kurapika finally gave up and headed into the next room.

As he peeked his head around the door, he paused. This was the master bedroom. It was nicely decorated, with dark antique furniture, heavy velvet-blue curtains, and one or two beautiful paintings adorning the walls. If Chrollo slept like a human, then perhaps this was his room.

After peeking his head into the ensuite bathroom, and then sorting through the inbuilt wardrobe (which was half mall-goth nightmare clothing and half hot CEO tailored suits), Kurapika turned his attention to the elephant in the room. The bed was a ridiculously large four-poster monstrosity and he was extremely jealous. Who could afford a bed with _drapes?_ In this economy? That and the mattress could easily accommodate four people, which put a very disgusting (horny) image into his head. Only it was just two people. One of which was himself.

Shaking his head at his own restless libido, Kurapika opened the bedside drawer and immediately regretted it. It was empty, save for a photograph. The only photograph in the entire house. And the young man in it was _not_ Chrollo. Kurapika picked up the photograph with shaking fingers, desperately trying to figure out when Chrollo had managed to take a picture of him and how.

The photo was blurry at the edges, and Kurapika was not looking anywhere near the camera, indicating that it had been taken at a distance and without his knowledge. Which meant either Chrollo or one of his creepy friends had taken it at some point. Considering that he had caught Nobunaga spying on him at Gon’s house, either theory was plausible. Yikes. 

But this was evidence! Well, not evidence that Chrollo was a vampire, but evidence that he was in fact a creepy son of a bitch (though the repeated attempts to get him to go to dinner had undoubtedly cemented that fact already). What other reason was there to keep a picture of your neighbour in your bedside draw except to be a total weirdo? Kurapika certainly couldn’t think of any. With a disgusted shudder, he placed the photograph back in the drawer, but not before snapping a quick photo of it with his smartphone. It certainly wasn’t what he had come in here for, but it was a start. At the very least, maybe he could get a restraining order…?

As he closed the drawer, he heard the tell-tale sound of tires screeching on concrete and the heavy sound of a car drawing up the driveway. The headlights flashed, briefly flooding the second-floor window with light. A cursory glance outside the window confirmed that it was Chrollo’s car. Kurapika’s mouth went dry.

Without wasting any time, he quickly made his way back through the hall and down the staircase, his fingers white around the crucifix in his pocket. But as he was halfway down the stairs, the sound of a latch turning slowed his steps. _Oh, shit._ Kurapika raced down the remaining stairs and into the kitchen. He approached the backdoor, only to see a shadow there behind the glass. There was _someone_ standing there. With his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, Kurapika backpedalled. He ducked back into the entrance hall and threw open the door under the stairs. The door shut with a soft _click_. Just in time it seemed. Heavy footfalls sounded in the entrance hall.

Chrollo was home.

With his heart in his throat, Kurapika kept his ear pressed up to the door. The footsteps continued, bypassing the stairs completely and turning off into one of the adjourning rooms. Kurapika’s hands flew up to his mouth, as if to calm his erratic breathing. He backed away from the door as the footsteps grew fainter. Then he noticed the staircase at his feet.

…the house had a _basement._

It was a gaping maw of darkness etched into the floor like a gateway to hell, but with an inviting handrail attached. While every part of his brain was screaming at him to stay put, the determined part of him knew that he would probably find evidence (if there was any) down there. So, with his fingers curling tightly around the crucifix in his pocket, and his other hand glued to his phone, Kurapika descended into the basement.

The first thing that Kurapika noticed, was that the basement was cold. He was suddenly grateful for his denim jacket. The second thing he noticed, was the pile of flattened card-board boxes in the corner (remnants from moving in, he suspected). In fact, the basement was incredibly mundane: it had a classic concrete floor, a few bits of old furniture, and everything was coated in a great deal of dust. But what _wasn’t_ normal, was the great big mahogany box at the far-end of the room.

Kurapika blinked.

That… that was a coffin.

He blinked again. Nope. It was still there. An honest to god _coffin._ It was exactly the sort of coffin featured in his copy of Bram Stoker’s _Dracula_. There were intricate designs carved into the dark wood, including a foreboding inverted crucifix – the cross of Saint Peter – and an inscription in an ancient language that no one still breathing could ever understand. It was beautiful and horrible all at once. And it was _evidence._

Kurapika snapped a picture, flinching as the flash went off. At the very least, even Leorio would admit it was odd that Chrollo had a coffin in his basement. There was such a thing as early funeral planning, but this was just plain ridiculous.

Holding his breath, Kurapika circled around the wooden casket, and continued to search the room. A cursory sweep with his torch informed him that there were even more books in Chrollo’s possession than he had thought. More importantly, however, he finally noticed the great metal door at the far-end of the room was incredibly suspicious. In fact, it looked like the door to a cold-room. In that moment, Kurapika suddenly realised that he was a blonde young-adult, creeping around a strange-man’s house in the dark, in what was a carbon-copy picture of nearly every slasher film ever created.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Nevertheless, Kurapika opened the door. As he peered into the cold-room, his eyes bulged out of his head. There, inside the freezer, were shelves laden with red bags and in the centre of the room, at least ten great barrels each large enough to hold a man. After a quick look around the basement to make sure no hulking behemoth wearing a hockey mask or a glove of knives was sprinting at him with murderous intent, Kurapika stepped inside, making sure to keep the door ajar. To his horror, the shelves were stacked full of blood-bags, the labels of Whale Island Hospital barely visible under the frost. Kurapika snapped a dozen pictures, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the vast quantities of blood that Chrollo had in his freezer. This was far beyond anything he had imagined.

Kurapika ventured towards the barrels, and using all his strength, managed to pry one open. It was empty. It was a disappointment, but also a relief. If there had been a dead body in there, he wasn’t sure how he would react at this point. Undeterred, he turned his attention back to the shelves. There was a black box on the very top shelf. Standing on his toes, Kurapika reached up to grab it, his fingers fruitlessly brushing against the box. He huffed and used his years of grocery-store reaching skills that only a short person could possibly have to slowly edge the box towards him. The box tumbled into his hands.

When he opened the box, Kurapika dropped it in shock.

There was a half-empty blood-bag inside, with yet another Whale Island Hospital label on it. But what made Kurapika’s heart drop out of his chest, was the name of the patient printed there.

_Kurta, Kurapika._

Shaking fingers managed to press down on his phone to take a photo of the bag, before panic completely flooded his brain. Without a second glance, he raced out of the freezer. The door shut behind him with a _clang_ , but Kurapika just kept running. Fuck this. Fuck Chrollo.

When he reached the top of the basement stairs, he stopped. He pushed open the door, just a crack, and peered into the entrance hall. Nothing. Kurapika stood there with bated breath, not moving a muscle. Eventually, he would have to make a run for it. But first, he needed to know where Chrollo was in relation to his position. Vampires were supposedly super strong and insanely fast. If Chrollo was on the second floor, then Kurapika might have a chance to reach the front door first. Maybe. He just needed to make it out the front door and to his own house.

If not, he was as good as dead.

For whatever reason, Chrollo _really_ wanted to eat him. The photo in his bedside table drawer and the blood-bag kept away from the rest of his stash were evidence enough to support that theory.

For a long time, nothing happened. And Kurapika waited.

Finally, there was the shuffling of footsteps from the direction of the kitchen. Sweat pooled at the base of Kurapika’s neck as the footsteps passed the basement door. The pace seemed to slow for a moment. Kurapika held his breath. Silence encompassed him and he was suddenly aware of his heart beating loudly in his chest. But then the footsteps simply continued down the hall and up the stairs.

Silent tears began to drip down Kurapika’s face as the footfalls thundered overhead. Chrollo was going upstairs.

Painstakingly slow, Kurapika eased the door open with his fingertips. He peered both ways down the hallway.

Clear.

Then he wasted no time in racing down the hall, and out the front door, not caring if Chrollo noticed anymore.

* * *

Panting wildly, Kurapika threw open the front-door. Worry began to needle away at the rest of his nerves as he realised that Leorio had already left for work. He would just have to wait. It was daylight now, so Chrollo could not move and he did not have an invitation into the house either. Somehow, after everything, that was a bit comforting. Steeling himself, Kurapika moved to get his laptop and connected his phone, already transferring all the incriminating pictures he had taken. If something were to happen to him, then at least he could make sure that the evidence would not vanish so easily.

When that was done, Kurapika took a quick shower, forcing himself to stay under the hot spray as long as possible. Every moment spent doing nothing was driving him up the wall, but he was filthy after sneaking into Chrollo’s house (it turned out near-death experiences made you sweat. A lot).

For the majority of the day, he busied himself by sharpening his stakes and organising his vampire kit, and even managed to take a short power-nap on the sofa considering he had not slept a wink last night. However, as lunchtime rolled around and the threat of the day’s end encroached as the sun paved its way through the sky, Kurapika was unable to bear the suspense any longer. Maybe Leorio was taking his break and would see his phone? It was worth a shot:

_We need to talk ASAP_

To his surprise, Leorio answered not ten minutes later.

_OK I’ll be done in an hour or two - can you wait til then?_

A great sigh of relief escaped him. It wasn’t often that the hospital shortened Leorio’s shift and he had expected that he would have to wait at least another five hours, but it looked like luck was smiling down upon him this once. Only, he didn’t want to draw Leorio close to Chrollo’s house. Not after he had snuck in. It would be better to meet up at a different location. The library. Then, finally, he could show him the evidence: the photograph from Chrollo’s bedside table, the coffin, the barrels, the blood bags, and most incriminating of all, the half-empty blood-bag with his name printed on it.

_Meet me at the library. I’ll be waiting at my desk_

_You got it, sunshine_

* * *

Being out of the house was a relief. Whilst Chrollo could not get in, it was also inconveniently located right next door him too. It felt less like a safe haven and more like a prison, constantly watched over by a vampire guard. The library was quiet, but there were plenty of people inside. For once, the crowd was a comfort for Kurapika. He was currently holed up at his desk, transferring the photos to his work-computer too for extra-security, and trying to distract himself (unsuccessfully) with a book.

“Kurapika, are you okay?”

It was Melody., Her hands pressed together anxiously as she took in his ragged appearance. Considering the only form of sleep he’d had in twenty-four hours was a short nap only a couple of hours ago, it was no surprise.

“I’m fine, Melody.” Kurapika said, raising a hand to quell her nerves. “I’m just waiting for Leorio.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to go ahead and lock-up the front-doors, okay? You stay as long as you need to. I’ll keep the back-door locked so Leorio can come in.”

Kurapika’s lips tugged upward in a grateful smile: “Thank you.”

With the crowd and his co-workers leaving, the building suddenly felt horribly empty. Kurapika turned on all the office lights, desperate for any illusion of safety he could muster. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Before long, he shot off another text message to Leorio:

_Are you close by?_

The reply was immediate.

_Very_

Kurapika frowned at that. It was getting close to three hours now, and the sky outside was beginning to dim. Maybe Leorio had gotten held up at work again? Whatever the reason, they had barely more than a couple hours of sunlight left, and then, well, either Chrollo (realising that his home had been broken into) would come for them or do nothing at all.

“Hello, Kurapika.”

Kurapika whirled around in his chair, his stomach dropping. He knew that cold voice.

Sure enough, it was Chrollo.

“What are you doing here?” Kurapika asked, his voice hitching. Instantly, he stood up behind his desk to put as much space between himself and Chrollo as possible. His brain was buzzing a mile a minute, trying to remember what weapons he had on hand, or within a convenient distance. In all his excitement in finally having found evidence, he had left his vampire-kit in the boot of the car. Damn it all.

Chrollo smiled, flashing his white teeth, “Can’t I visit my dear neighbour?”

“Where’s Leorio?!”

“Why, I haven’t the slightest idea-”

“If you’ve hurt him-” Kurapika whispered angrily, taking another step back, just as Chrollo continued forward, his coat swirling around him like an oncoming storm. His smile was pleasant enough, but Kurapika knew him well enough now to see the simmering anger beneath it.

“I’m sure he’s safely back home by now. He’s probably wondering where you are, in fact.”

“What?”

“You attempted to call him here, but one of my technologically-adept friends took the liberty of intercepting the messages on your phone. It was the only way, after how you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

An overwhelming sense of dread clutched at Kurapika’s heart. The text-messages had not been from Leorio at all. Sickeningly enough, Chrollo had even used the pet-name that Leorio called him to draw him out to the library. There was no telling if Leorio was okay or not. This bastard could be lying. How many messages had he intercepted on his phone? Did that mean he knew about his cousin Pairo, his work-friends, and his friends at the university? Chrollo could have gotten to any of them if he wanted.

Like a shadow passing under the weight of the sun, Chrollo moved forward, leaving Kurapika helpless to stop him. Chrollo was taller, bigger, and more dangerous than anyone he had ever seen.

“You’ve caused me quite the headache, Kurapika.” Chrollo said, stopping just short of crushing Kurapika’s toes. “Calling the authorities and bringing all sorts of unwanted attention on my friends and I. Not to mention the trespassing. You’ve been very busy, haven’t you?”

Then Chrollo reached up and in one smooth motion, tore the bandages wrapped around his head and smoothed his greasy hair back against his skull. A wave of nausea hit Kurapika as he looked upon Chrollo’s pale forehead and his very reason for covering it up. There, scorched into his very flesh, was a crucifix. It was a horrifying wound, his forehead blackened and twisted by the ever-lasting effects of holy fire.

“Is this the proof you wanted?” Chrollo asked, idly threading the bandages around his wrist. Then he bent forwards to bare his white fangs at Kurapika, their noses almost touching. “Or perhaps these?”

_Vampire._

Kurapika balked, “How many people have you killed?!”

Chrollo considered him for a moment, then shrugged: “Honestly, I couldn’t say. Do you keep count of every sandwich you’ve ever eaten?” As he said it, Kurapika saw the amused gleam in Chrollo’s eyes and he shrank back in horror. Chrollo was a monster.

“But to answer your real question, yes, I killed the Nostrades and those idiotic university kids across the road - and all those other disappearances were my doing as well.”

If there had been any shred of doubt at all in Kurapika’s mind as to Chrollo’s true nature, it had all but vanished now. It was written all over him. It was there in his confident prowl, in that ever present, all-knowing smirk, and in the unforgiving darkness in his eyes. This was Chrollo, in his purest form. Horror incarnate.

So, Kurapika did the first thing that came to mind. He picked up the nearest book and threw it directly at Chrollo’s big fat head. Then he turned on his heel and ran. In the distance, he heard a minute _“Oof!”_ indicating that he had hit his target. He didn’t dare look back, however. Like the banging of a drum, his feet pounded at the wooden floorboards as he raced through the librarians’ open-office space and through the door into the labyrinth of bookcases. The noise blared in his mind, and as he skidded along the polished floor, he came to a sudden stop. Suddenly, he ducked behind the nearest staircase and began to tip-toe along carefully, squinting at every creak and groan of the old wooden boards beneath his feet. He had always loved that the Whale Island Library was situated in an old heritage building, but now, as he was being hunted, he cursed every brick, wooden plank, and crooked nail in the place.

He followed the shadow of the staircase until it ended and was forced to run along the length of the bookcases, peeking behind each corner as he went. The sun had all but gone down outside, and the building was thrown into darkness, with only the sparse emergency lights and blinking monitors of the computers for guidance. It got easier with every second as his eyes adjusted, but every second spent in the building was sport for Chrollo.

As he passed the circle of computers, he came to the final stretch of bookcases towards the information desk and the exit. He rounded the corner. And of course, he ran smack-dab into Chrollo, his head colliding bodily with Chrollo’s solid chest. It felt like he had walked into a brick-wall, rather than a human being (of which he now knew Chrollo was neither).

“I wasn’t done talking.” Chrollo snapped, snarling angrily as he pushed Kurapika backwards.

“I don’t care!” Kurapika hissed, “You can _fuck off-”_

Iron-like fingers wrapped around his throat and any words on the tip of Kurapika’s tongue died. His hands shot up to pry Chrollo’s hand away, but to no avail. He tripped backwards, only to collide with the bookshelf behind him. Chrollo followed right after, his hand still tight on his throat and pressing him back against the bookshelf with all the strength of his bodyweight.

“You are _so_ infuriating.” Chrollo murmured, his breath hot against Kurapika’s cheek. “This could have been so easy, but you just had to make it difficult.”

“ _Y-you started this!”_ Kurapika choked out, now pushing fruitlessly at Chrollo’s chest to push him off. Against his cheek, he felt an amused smile tug at Chrollo’s lips. _Bastard._ But little by little, Chrollo’s fingers loosened slightly around his windpipe. Air filled Kurapika’s lungs once again. He coughed again and again, his eyes watering as he clutched at his sore throat. In a battle of strength, there was no way he could win. He would have to run.

“I went to all this effort for you.” Chrollo continued, as if Kurapika had not spoken at all. His chin came to a rest on top of Kurapika’s head, whilst his body enveloped his in a strange embrace. Every inch of Kurapika’s body screamed in revulsion, as he was forcibly folded against Chrollo, his chest and arms trapped tightly against Chrollo’s torso. “If you had just been a little patient, this could have gone so smoothly. Now you’ve gone and involved that doctor friend of yours and that ugly green boy.”

_Leorio. Gon._

Red filled Kurapika’s vision and a snarl that would have made Leorio proud tore up his throat, “ _You emo bitch!”_

For a moment, Chrollo’s embrace faltered and he pulled back to frown disapprovingly at Kurapika. Big mistake. Quick as a whip, Kurapika was already pulling out the crucifix from his pocket and shoving it into Chrollo’s face. The effect was immediate. The flesh of Chrollo’s face began to sear and blacken around the cross, smoke curling and rising. A wretched scream tore from Chrollo’s throat and he released Kurapika.

_Crucifixes [O]_

With his feet on solid ground, Kurapika wasted no time in putting distance between himself and Chrollo. He ran for it. Horrifyingly enough, because Chrollo was blocking the way, he would have to double-back towards the office-exit at the rear of the building. The shelves loomed over him, every shadow a threat, but he kept going. His feet pounded relentlessly at the wooden floorboards, no longer interested in keeping quiet but only in getting out. His body slammed into the office door but he ignored the pain. With his heart beating out of his chest, Kurapika sprinted towards the back door, vaulting over the librarians’ desks and sending books and papers flying. But there was already someone there. Kurapika came hurtling to a stop, barely stopping himself from barrelling into the man standing at the door.

It was Hisoka.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was how it was going to end. All they would find of him would be a bloody smear in the open office. Hisoka leered over him, a playful glint in his eye as usual. Then he stepped aside and motioned for Kurapika to exit through the door. Kurapika’s jaw dropped.

“A-aren’t you-?”

Hisoka’s grin widened, “If you leave now, you might make it back home before Chrollo.”

“Why are _you_ helping me?”

Hisoka shook his head and ushered Kurapika gently through the door, “No time for questions. Maybe later – but you’d better hope we don’t meet again.”

There was no time to look a gift horse in the mouth. Kurapika let Hisoka guide him through the door, only to break out into a solid sprint. He was out.

* * *

When Kurapika finally got home, he slammed the front door behind him, locked it, and fell against it, his chest rising and falling erratically as he tried to catch his breath. The panic flooding his system and his recent adrenaline rush from running recklessly through the library was certainly not helping things.

“Kurapika! What are you doing on the floor – did you _run_ here?!”

Leorio was standing in the hallway, looking very concerned about the fact that Kurapika was huddled on the doormat. Which was understandable, given his flyaway appearance. He must have made for quite a sight with his torn clothing, bruised throat, and knotted hair. Still, he thought he looked alright considering he had just survived an encounter with a _vampire_.

“No, _fuck,_ I stole a bike, and long story short we need to leave. Now.” Kurapika managed, getting to his feet and racing into the kitchen to grab Leorio’s car keys. He’d had to leave his car behind, after parking it out the front instead of the back-entrance. So he’d had to make a break for it and had stumbled across a bike (usually he would feel bad, but this situation was particularly trying his moral compass). He couldn’t go back to the library to retrieve his own car. Not now.

“What? You stole a bike?!” Leorio spluttered, “Gon just got here-”

The keys fell from Kurapika’s hands and clattered against the floor: _“What?”_

“Mito just dropped him off. She has to work late tonight, and I said we could look after him, but I can watch him by myself if you’re busy.”

“Fuck!” Kurapika yelled, picking up the keys with shaking hands; “No, we’ll just take him with us and drop him off. Chrollo won’t go after him, I don’t think-”

“Chrollo? What’s he got to do with it?”

“He’s a murderous psychopath, that’s what!” Kurapika shouted, racing into his room to grab his belongings; “He’s the one who killed the Nostrades and those university students - and who knows how many other people he’s killed-”

Leorio followed him, “What?!”

“He’s a vampire, he told me so himself!” Kurapika said, as he grabbed his suitcase from the closet and stuffed his belongings in it, as well as all his vampire-killing devices that weren’t currently locked in the boot of his car. He was not leaving this house without protection. If Chrollo tried to come after him, well, he’d get a nice stake to his stupid pale chest.

“Yeah, Leorio! That goth guy next door is a vampire!” Gon shouted, running into the room with a necklace of garlic bulbs swinging around his neck and clutching one of Kurapika’s shoddily-made crucifixes; “Kurapika showed me how to ward them off! Aunt Mito got mad ‘cus I used up all the garlic, but she’ll understand.”

Leorio rolled his eyes, “Okay, Kurapika, this little Halloween joke has gone on long enough, okay?”

“It’s not a joke!”

“But to get Gon involved? That’s too much. You know how impressionable he is!”

Gon frowned, “Hey! I’m not impressionable!”

“This is not a joke, Leorio! Chrollo is coming to kill us all - he just attacked me at the library and now he’s coming to finish the job!”” Kurapika snapped, dragging his suitcase in one hand and holding tightly onto Gon’s hand with his other. With one swift movement, Kurapika dropped his suitcase and tugged at his collar, revealing the angry red marks around his neck. “See?”

Leorio flinched, “He attacked you?”

“Yes! Now, go get your things – we need to leave!”

“O-okay.”

Kurapika could tell that Leorio did not believe him about the vampires, but the marks around his neck had quieted him down. Maybe Leorio thought he was going mad, but even he could tell that Kurapika had not choked himself half to death. And maybe, just maybe, he believed that Chrollo was responsible.

“Just stuff all our things together, okay? We need to pack lightly.”

With a deepening frown, Leorio followed Gon and Kurapika into his own room and began packing his belongings into the suitcase. He got as far as throwing in his passport before three successive _knocks_ sounded at the door. Kurapika froze. Chrollo was here.

Kurapika looked at Leorio, _“Don’t.”_

Chrollo needed an invitation to get in. They would be safe so long as none of them gave him an invitation – explicit or otherwise. But even as the thought crossed his mind, Kurapika still felt the vampire’s iron-like fingers wrapped around his neck _squeezing_ the life from his body. None of them were truly safe until Chrollo was dead.

Leorio stood up, “Look, I won’t open the door I’m just going to see who it is. What if its Mito?”

Very nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste, Kurapika went after him with Gon in tow: “You _know_ who it is, don’t go to the door!”

Leorio waved him away and picked up the baseball bat he kept by the front-door. “You and Gon just stay quiet and keep away from the windows, okay?” Leorio said, voice as hard as steel. “I won’t let him touch you again.”

Three more knocks sounded, each heavier than the last. The door shook beneath the force, the hinges creaking loudly.

“Kurapika? Are you home?”

The voice was playful, but Kurapika’s blood ran cold. It was Chrollo.

Leorio peered through the fish-eye lens, before pulling back and adjusting the bat in his grip. He glared at the door: “It’s Leorio.”

“Leorio?” Chrollo’s voice was carefully even, as if he had just stopped by to borrow a cup of flour. “Is Kurapika home? Why don’t you invite me in so we can all chat?”

“This isn’t a great time.” Leorio shot back, with a frown starting to bleed onto his face.

“Now is a _great_ time. I would prefer not to involve the authorities in all this, but you see, Kurapika has been giving me a great deal of trouble. He has trespassed on my property, assaulted my friends, and overall been quite the nuisance.” Chrollo said, sighing mournfully. “I would like to come in and discuss this as neighbours first – extend an olive branch, if you will?”

Kurapika shrank back, pushing Gon behind him. Oh fuck, Chrollo was going to kill them all.

“You’d better go talk to the authorities then.” Leorio shouted back. “Because as I said, now is not a good time!”

They all waited with bated breath for Chrollo’s response. But there was only silence. After a moment had passed, Leorio ran to the nearest window to peer out onto the front porch that the fish-eye lens could not capture.

“He’s not there!” he hissed at Kurapika and Gon. “He’s gone!”

“He can’t get in without an invitation, right?” Gon asked, eyes wide. There was no fear, but excitement in his voice. As if they were all playing a great big game. Kurapika’s mouth ran dry. He needed to keep Gon safe no matter what.

Kurapika knew Chrollo, and that the vampire would not be dissuaded so easily. He ran to the kitchen window. As smoothly as you please, Chrollo stalked past, glancing at Kurapika with that terrible smile. With one look, he pinned Kurapika to the spot.

“He’s going around the side of the house!” Kurapika yelled, forcing himself to move.

Gon frowned, “But he can’t get in the back door without an invitation either, right? Those are the rules!”

Leorio rolled his eyes, “Okay, let’s quit with the vampire bullshit. I’m gonna call the police and get them over here to kick this asshole off our property.”

“It’s not bullshit!” Kurapika snapped, running to the back sliding-door, and checking that it was locked. But Chrollo was not at the door.

“He’s digging up the garden!” Gon said, running up beside Kurapika to push his round face up against the glass. Indeed, Chrollo had broken into their shed and taken their shovel and was now aggressively digging up the grass in the back garden. “Do you think he’s got some vampire friends buried back there?!”

“What is that dickhead doing to our grass?!” Leorio yelled, angrily dialling the police on his smartphone. “Seriously! First, he assaults you, and now he’s destroying our garden! This guy is a freaking psychopath!”

“No human can dig like that!” Kurapika yelled back, “He’s a vampire, Leorio! What do you expect the police to do? Shout him his rights?”

“Maybe he’s just high? People on drugs can perform feats of superhuman strength! I’ve seen it!”

With an annoyed click of his tongue, Chrollo abandoned the shovel and began to dig with his bare hands, the veins black against his skin as his vile claws began tearing up the earth.

“Look at his fucked-up vampire hands, Leorio!” Kurapika snapped, practically tearing his hair out. How could his friend still be so blind? “He has _claws!”_

“Look!” Gon shouted, drawing their attention back to Chrollo, who was now standing in the middle of the dug-up pit that had once been their garden. Chrollo ducked down into the pit and pulled out a thin stretch of pipe with a horrible dragging sound. Distantly, Kurapika heard a grinding sound from the kitchen.

Chrollo had pulled out the gas pipe. He smiled at them toothily.

Realisation hit Kurapika like a brick to the face. If there was no house, then Chrollo didn’t need an invitation.

“He’s going to blow up the house.” Kurapika snapped, dragging Gon and Leorio to the garage and barely remembering to pick up the suitcase too.

“He’s going to _what?”_

“That was the gas pipe!” Kurapika snapped, pushing Gon into the backseat with the suitcase. “So, we need to leave, now!”

Kurapika clambered into the driver’s seat and locked the doors as soon as Leorio had sat down in the passenger seat. He pressed the garage remote and watched the door slide up, his hands whitening around the steering wheel. They would survive this. They had to.

“Fuck, why does this guy want to kill you?!”

“He’s a vampire, Leorio!” Kurapika snapped, stomping on the gas pedal the moment the garage door had slid open wide enough. “He wants to eat me – that’s all the reason he needs! And now you and Gon, too!”

Leorio wailed and clutched the side-door as the car burst out of the garage, whilst Gon let out a triumphant _whoop!_

“Put on your seatbelt, Gon!” Kurapika snapped as the car tore down the street. With not a minute to spare, a great _boom_ sounded in the distance and flames burst from the windows of the house in a deathly fireball. If the library had not already been a clear indicator, Chrollo was _not_ fucking around.

“Where are we going?” Leorio said, clutching at his head. “What is the plan, here?”

“We go to the casino, drop off Gon with Mito, and then you and I are getting the hell out of here. I hear Yorkshin is nice this time of year.”

“But I want to hunt vampires with you guys!” Gon whined. “Could we pick up Killua too? He would want to help!”

“No!” Leorio and Kurapika said at the same time, making Gon sit back in his seat with an angry flourish.

Leorio turned back to Kurapika, “So, how do we get rid of him? Do we need silver bullets or something?”

From the backseat, Gon rolled his eyes, “He doesn’t even know how to kill vampires, Pika! You should bring me, not him!”

Kurapika ignored him and side eyed Leorio, “You believe me now?”

“I’ve killed one vampire, _by myself_ , Leorio, how many have you killed?” Gon boasted, kicking the back of Leorio’s seat petulantly.

“Hey! In my defence, I thought he was just really devoted to the goth aesthetic.” Leorio said, raising his hands. “But then he ripped up the gas pipe with those fucked-up vampire hands. _Ughhh,_ I can’t get those hands out of my head. It was so gross. So yeah. I believe you now.”

“I packed some stakes, matches, and I have a UV torch too.” Kurapika said, “And there’s also some crucifixes. The most important thing is to keep driving until sun-up. He can’t move during the day. That’s our advantage.”

_“Freaking hell.”_

Leorio sounded impressed.

“Yeah.” 

* * *

The tires screeched in protest as Kurapika brought the car to a mind-numbing halt in front of the dazzling casino entrance. 

“Keep it warm!” Kurapika snapped at the valet with all the intensity of a madman, dragging Gon into the casino as Leorio apologetically pressed the keys into his hands with a mumbled ‘sorry’; “We’ll be five minutes tops!”

Given that it was a Thursday night, the casino was packed-out. There were crowds of people fresh off from work to join the game tables, try their luck at the machines, or just to grab a bite to eat at the string of restaurants attached to the casino. One such restaurant was where Mito worked, managing the small establishment.

Kurapika hauled Gon through the crowd, periodically checking to see that Leorio was keeping up, as they made their way to _The Lord of the Lake_. When he finally caught sight of the giant blue porcelain fish statue poised outside the restaurant, Kurapika finally breathed. He couldn’t in good conscience bring Gon along and expose him to that kind of danger. Gon would be safe with Mito. If he wasn’t with Kurapika, then hopefully Chrollo would leave him alone.

Outside the restaurant, Kurapika dropped to his knees and clutched Gon’s shoulders. He looked him right in the eye: “You need to stay here, okay, Gon?”

“Let me help.” Gon said, his bottom lip sticking out. He was braver than the average twelve-year-old and his heart was twice as big, but Kurapika would never let anything happen to him. Not if he could prevent it.

“It’s too dangerous. I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me.” Kurapika said, bringing Gon into a fierce hug. “Now please, don’t argue. Mito will look after you.”

Gon looked like he was about to protest, but he fell quiet and nodded.

“Good. Apologise to Mito for me. She would understand if she knew what was happening, but I don’t think she would ever believe it.”

“Stay safe.” Leorio added, hugging Gon one last time. “Me and Kurapika, we love hanging out with you. But for now, you need to stay here, okay?”

With that, Gon walked into the restaurant. His face was pinched and oddly red, but he waved after them anyway. Kurapika’s eyes suddenly felt hot, but he steeled himself. Every additional second wasted was a second that Chrollo could take advantage of to hurt them all. They needed to leave. Now.

“Let’s go.” He said to Leorio, before heading into the crowd. “If we’re lucky, we’ll make the next flight to Yorkshin.”

* * *

If the walk in was tricky, the way out was impossible. The crowd had seemingly doubled in size in the past ten minutes. As Kurapika pushed his way out of the restaurant strip, he found himself in an unrecognisable part of the casino. This was not the way they had come in.

He turned back, only to realise Leorio was nowhere to be seen.

“Leorio?” Kurapika called, his voice splintering with worry. There was a sea of people, many of them tall, with black hair, and some wearing glasses. None of them were his best friend.

“Leorio?!” He tried again, louder this time, just to be heard over the deafening noise of the crowd and the machines. If there was a worse place to be lost, he couldn’t think of one. Looking around every corner, Kurapika weaved through the blinding lights and noise that was the labyrinth of pachinko and slot machines and edged his way past the packed in poker-tables, pushing past the other patrons. Tokens scattered and colourful drinks sloshed all over the deep red carpet, but Kurapika kept on moving. _Where was Leorio?!_

He continued to pave his way through the endless high-ceiling rooms and dense crowd, only to find himself in the beating-heart of the casino. Then he came to a stop. The crowd had opened up, if only for a moment, and Kurapika had a clear view past the fountain, the gaudy plants, and across the glass domed ceiling of the casino. There, on the other side of the hall, was Chrollo Lucilfer. His favoured black coat was draped over his shoulders like an oil slick and for the sake of polite society, his forehead was bandaged tightly once again.

Their eyes met, and everything came to a grinding halt. Chrollo’s gaze was focused – utterly unwavering in its intent. But Kurapika just glared on back. An amused smile played at Chrollo’s lips and then he did something totally unexpected. He waved Kurapika over, like an old friend.

And without a say in the matter, Kurapika felt his feet moving towards him. He let out a strangled yelp, which just as quickly died in his throat. This was glamour - that bastard Chrollo was casting a glamour! To Kurapika’s horror, the crowd all but bowed to make way for him as he continued to make his way across the room. The smell of alcohol and tobacco, the noise of the machines and the tables, the glaring lights, they all seemed to wash away, leaving nothing but Chrollo in their stead. Such was his last coherent thought.

A strange contentment settled over Kurapika. This was not so bad. Why had he been panicking? Here he was, walking over to see Chrollo! His dear neighbour – endlessly tall, with the dark eyes and dark hair, and the sharp jawline, and the strong arms… Chrollo who always stared right back at him with his eyes full of something _deep and unspoken that made his head spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin-_

All of a sudden, Kurapika was past the fountain and the plants and _smackdab_ on the other side of the room. As if pushed by an invisible force, Kurapika stumbled forward. A muffled cry rang from his throat but Chrollo (bless his unbeating heart) was already there. He scooped him up, easy as you please, letting Kurapika collapse against his unfairly solid chest. With his cheek burning against Chrollo’s coat, Kurapika was helpless to right himself as his arms hung loosely over Chrollo’s elbows and his ankles dragged uselessly against the floor. To the average onlooker, he just looked drunk. He certainly felt that way.

“There, was that so difficult?” Chrollo crooned, hoisting Kurapika up onto his feet and letting his arms wrap loosely around his neck. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay.” Kurapika said, playing idly with the inky strands at the base of Chrollo’s neck and enjoying the resulting shiver that ran through Chrollo’s body. What a great evening with his dear neighbour Chrollo. They should do this all the time.

“This is only temporary, but you’ll forgive me later.” Chrollo murmured against Kurapika’s blonde head. Kurapika poked at Chrollo’s blue earrings with a frown. Bubbly. Huh, he couldn’t imagine what Chrollo could ever have to apologise for. He was just so nice!

They continued like that, edging their way towards the exit, with Chrollo striding with that effortless confidence and his arms solidly wrapped around Kurapika to keep him upright as he marched them out. But as they turned a corner past the pachinko machines, glass and beer exploded over Chrollo’s head. Someone had broken a bottle over the back of his head.

“Fuck off, you goth freak!”

Just like that, the cloud was lifted from Kurapika’s mind. It was Leorio!

Chrollo’s face twisted, all prior softness gone only to be replaced with a murderous rage. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he glared at Leorio, obviously imagining several ways of maiming him.

Meanwhile, Kurapika had scrambled backwards to put as much distance between himself and Chrollo. He felt sick to his stomach, to think of how close he had been to death itself. Leorio quickly helped him to his feet, taking a moment to check him over for any wounds. Miraculously, Kurapika was unscathed.

“Leorio,” Chrollo spat, picking shards of glass from his now dripping-wet hair which Kurapika had been fondly stroking not seconds ago. Kurapika shuddered. “I should have killed you first, _then_ snatched up my prize. I see my mistake now.”

“Yeah, not the first of many, pal!” Leorio snapped, and pushed Kurapika behind him, standing between him and Chrollo. He hoisted up another bottle and aimed it threateningly. “You’d better leave me and Kurapika alone!”

Chrollo laughed, “You think that’s going to hurt me? You should have listened to Kurapika the first time when he told you what I was, then maybe you’d be able to do some actual damage. That will be your final mistake.”

Leorio paused for a moment. Then he threw the bottle anyway.

Unlike the first bottle, which had been smashed against Chrollo’s head with all of Leorio’s weight behind it, the second bottle simple bounced right off Chrollo’s forehead like a ball off a brick wall. It would have been comical were they not facing death incarnate.

“Oh shit, run, Kurapika, run!” Leorio yelped, pushing Kurapika through the crowd.

So, they did. With Leorio’s hands pushing incessantly at his back, and with his own arms carving out a violent path through the thatch of people, they ran through the casino towards the exit. People tripped to get out of their way, sending drinks spilling over the floor and game chips flying through the air. They didn’t stop to apologise of course.

When they passed through the dance hall, the music thumped loudly over the speakers, deafening their ears. The show-lights swung back and forth casting light in all shapes and sizes across the room to intercut the darkness. With limited hearing and visibility, they pushed onwards through the crowd of dancing and moshing people that was in the way of the exit. But when Kurapika was half-way through the room, he felt Leorio’s grip on his jacket fall away. He spun around in terror, only to see Chrollo standing behind him, one hand wrapped around Leorio’s neck to prevent him from getting away. The crowd continued to dance around them, ignorant to the violent exchange happening in front of them.

“Let him go!”

“This is all very tiresome.” Chrollo said, rolling his eyes. “Perhaps you’ll listen to me for a moment-”

“Let him go! Now!” Kurapika yelled again, trying to charge at the vampire, only to be prevented by the momentum of the crowd pushing him away.

_“Run, Kurapika-”_ Leorio yelled, only to be cut off as Chrollo landed a sharp hit to the back of his head, making him collapse against the floor. Then he hoisted him up by the back of his shirt, holding him as limply as a ragdoll.

A scream tore up Kurapika’s throat: “Leorio!”

“I can see you won’t come to me of your own volition.” Chrollo said, sighing deeply. “Perhaps this will convince you. If you want to see your dear Leorio again, you’ll come to the house. _Alone_. Don’t even think about involving the police – or Leorio here will suffer greatly, I promise you that.”

Then he was gone.

Kurapika was swept away by the crowd, helpless to do anything but watch as the vampire stole his friend away.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR chrollo sips blood bags like a juicebox for ""Research"" and jacks off to Spicy Pics of kurapika


	5. Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER IS HERE.  
> WHO WILL LIVE? WHO WILL DIE? WILL CHROLLO EVER GET LAID???   
> (the pt says no, not at this rate, definitely not)
> 
> KURAPIKA goes SUPER SECRET SNEAK MODE (he rolled a nat 20 on stealth this time guys)  
> HISOKA?!  
> CHROLLO is just STRAIGHT-UP CREEPY  
> LEORIO is SUFFERING  
> GON gets a Happy Meal!   
> .  
> .  
> .  
> KILLUA??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you once again to everyone who took the time to leave a comment and/or kudos! it's been so great to interact with you all and hear all your thoughts + theories - absolutely love reading them. some of you were ALARMINGLY ACCURATE and have solid critical thinking skills (hope you go on to review books and movies with your keen eyes!). anyway, the story RAMPS UP here so take the plunge!

There was an undeniable slump in Kurapika’s step as he walked out of the casino. Utterly defeated. He pressed a hefty tip into the valet’s hand as they fetched Leorio’s car for him. But his mind was far, far away from all that.

Leorio was gone.

Kidnapped.

His best friend was now at the mercy of a cold-blooded killer.

And what could Kurapika do? Just like sand, he had let Leorio slip through his fingers. He needed to get him back. He wasn’t even sure if Leorio was still alive, but something told him Chrollo had meant what he said. There had been something in his eyes, a seriousness in his voice as he had threatened him. Somehow, he believed that Chrollo would not hurt Leorio, at least not until he could take his revenge on Kurapika. That must be it.

Whatever the reason, Leorio was Chrollo’s only bargaining chip at this point, so Kurapika needed to act quickly before things got worse and his monstrous neighbour decided to expand his arsenal by hunting down Kurapika’s remaining friends and family. But where to start…? Aha.

With a burning determination fuelled by endless anger, Kurapika slammed his foot on the gas pedal, the tires screeching on the bitumen as he headed out into an uncertain night.

* * *

To Kurapika’s delight, his car was exactly where he had left it in the library parking-lot. At this point, he half-expected that his car would get stolen by Chrollo too. He unlocked his car and grabbed the vampire-kit from the boot, before clambering into the front seat. His car had more fuel than Leorio’s, considering all the hectic driving he’d been doing in it, and if he was lucky enough to escape Chrollo’s clutches with Leorio in tow, then they’d need a reliable escape vehicle.

Unzipping the duffel bag, Kurapika made a quick inventory of the equipment he had on hand. He still had his matches, UV torch, and stakes from the house, as well as the single pocket-size crucifix in his back-pocket. With the addition of the duffel bag, he now had more stakes, as well as half a dozen DIY crucifixes, a necklace of garlic courtesy of Gon, and a small canister of kerosene.

It was more than enough to kill one vampire.

But Kurapika was almost certain that Chrollo would not be alone in the house. He suspected that Chrollo’s vampire friends would be there, including Hisoka. Depending on how he made his entrance, he wasn’t sure how many vampires he could stake before he could get to Leorio. And was that even an option, or would Chrollo just kill Leorio on the spot as soon as he arrived? Well, it was possible, but it didn’t matter. Either way, Kurapika would get Leorio back or die trying.

Shifting around in his seat, Kurapika donned a military-style black flak jacket and a pair of knee-pads and elbow-pads. He had been foraging in the bargain bins at the local recycled military-goods store and managed to fish them out. A confrontation had been inevitable - he had been aware of this fact ever since he’d carved that first stake – so this was a long time coming. He wasn’t sure how much protection military-grade (albeit recycled and outdated) gear would grant him against a creature like Chrollo Lucilfer, but it gave him some peace of mind, nevertheless.

Taking a deep breath, he started up the car and made his way to the house.

* * *

It did not take Kurapika long to return to the smoking ruin of his house, and the hulking nightmare that was Chrollo’s house sitting innocently beside it. There were great swaths of police-tape around the smoking remnants of the porch and fence, but funnily enough, no emergency vehicles to be seen. As if Chrollo had simply whispered in the wind and they had been blown away. Which would not surprise Kurapika at this point.

With the garlic necklace swinging from his neck, and the stakes sitting snugly in a bandoleer strewn across his chest, Kurapika marched over to Chrollo’s house and swung open the front door. He was accosted almost immediately, by none other than Hisoka Morrow, who was leaning against the doorframe with his hip posed jauntily and a creepy smile on his face.

“I thought I told you to get away.” Hisoka said, raising an eyebrow at the stake poised over his chest. “Cute jacket by the way.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here because your shitty friend has Leorio.”

Hisoka nodded, “Oh, fair enough then. But perhaps a word of advice?”

For a second, Kurapika contemplated bringing the stake down but paused at remembering Hisoka’s previous show of mercy at the library. So instead, he waited for Hisoka to continue.

“There are a lot of vampires in this house, and while I don’t doubt your fighting prowess with that stake, there is a stronger card up your sleeve. If you want your little friend to make it out of this house alive, then you should surrender _willingly_ to Chrollo.”

Kurapika frowned, “Pardon?”

Surrender? How would that help anyone? Chrollo would kill them both anyway just to spite him.

“I’m sure you understand by now, the power you have.” Hisoka said, letting Kurapika manhandle him through the threshold with a surprising lack of resistance. “So, if you want to save your friend, then strike the _right_ bargain.”

Oh. So, this was it then. Only one human would be leaving this house alive. And Kurapika was determined that it be Leorio. Fine. If Chrollo wanted to eat Kurapika so badly, then Kurapika was just going to have to suck it up and let him. It wasn’t Leorio’s fault that he had been dragged into this.

The stake relaxed in Kurapika’s grip.

Hisoka shook his head, “No, no, keep that aimed at me. I don’t want _him_ knowing I helped you. Not yet.”

With narrowed eyes, Kurapika did as he was told. He still wasn’t sure if Hisoka was a friend or foe. He only hoped he would figure out which he was before it was too late.

At Hisoka’s urging, they marched down into the basement, with Kurapika’s free hand reaching up to wrap tightly around Hisoka’s shoulder and the other around the stake which he had pushed up against Hisoka’s back, hovering over his heart. It was both for show and a clear threat. Any wrong move on Hisoka’s end would end badly.

The lights in the basement were already on, and as they reached the bottom of the staircase, Kurapika discovered that Chrollo had a _lot_ of friends. Not including Uvogin and Nobunaga (R.I.P), there were almost a dozen vampires in the basement, all of diverse shapes and sizes – some short, some tall, some fat, some thin as a rake, some dressed in civilian clothes, whilst some looked like budget-clowns for a terrible children’s party. But all of them were undoubtedly dangerous. A dozen pairs of eyes swept over Kurapika as he man-handled Hisoka into the basement, some looking bored, and others, barely restraining their surprise. Kurapika ignored them.

Instead, his eyes were immediately drawn to the only other human in the room. Leorio was hunched over on the floor at Chrollo’s feet, with his hands tied behind his back and his mouth gagged with a filthy rag. He was unconscious. Instantly, an all-consuming rage washed over Kurapika and he had to physically restrain himself from tackling Chrollo to the floor then and there and stabbing him repeatedly.

He settled for simply glaring at him. Chrollo was not the tallest being in the room, yet he seemed to tower over the others in a way that was palpable in the very air. If Kurapika had not already guessed it, he would have known in that moment that Chrollo was the aptly named Grand Vampire. The wrappings on his forehead were gone, and Kurapika’s gaze fixated on his ruined flesh with a morbid fascination. He could only imagine what kind of weapon inflicted damage that permanent on a creature like Chrollo. In that moment, stuck in that dusty little basement, Kurapika’s heart stuttered with fear. This was Chrollo at his most powerful, here surrounded by allies, bathed in darkness, and with his prey under his feet.

The only advantage Kurapika had was Hisoka. Somehow, he did not like his chances. His feet seemed to stick frozen to the floor, and its only when Hisoka turned his head to look at him meaningfully, as if to remind him of his “advice”, that he forced himself to continue onwards. Time to negotiate.

“How nice of you to join us.” Chrollo said, the beginnings of a triumphant smile tickling the corners of his lips. He leaned against the coffin behind him, the lid propped open revealing the midnight-blue velvet exterior. As if expecting a body to be placed in it. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming at all. We’re on a timeline, you know.”

Steeling himself, Kurapika shoved Hisoka forward, if only to show off the stake he had pushed against his back to the rest of the spawn in the room. A murmur rippled among them, but they all stayed put. None of them seemed thrown off, and whether that was their own lack of fear, or the raw influence of Chrollo’s own apathy, he was not sure.

“What exactly, do you think you are going to do with that? I hardly imagine that you could stake us all.” Chrollo continued, an amused gleam in his eyes.

“I’m going to make you listen, for once in your miserable life.” Kurapika snapped, keeping a wrought-iron hold of his bargaining chip. To Hisoka’s credit, he was not putting up anything close to a fight. In fact, he was almost leaning into the touch. Creep. “Give me Leorio, and maybe I won’t splatter your friend here across the room.”

“We both know I could stop you before you even lifted a finger.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow, pushing the stake further into Hisoka’s back, threatening to break skin: “You want to test that theory?”

A muscle in Chrollo’s jaw twitched and his hands curled tightly around the rim of the coffin, the wood cracking beneath his fingers.

“You know I can’t simply let you leave.”

“I’m not asking!” Kurapika continued shoving Hisoka forwards again, pressing the stake in deeper, and ignoring the resulting shudder from the vampire in his grasp. Oh, gross. “Now, hand over Leorio!”

Chrollo shook his head, “No, I don’t think I will.”

Hisoka turned his head again, his eyes widening pointedly at Kurapika. It was the same message again. Kurapika’s heart sank. The vampire was right, of course. This charade was just going in circles and Chrollo did not seem even close to backing down. This was hopeless. How on earth was he going to rescue Leorio? He couldn’t leave him. That wasn’t an option.

Yet Hisoka had said that Kurapika had another card up his sleeve…

But was it really that simple?

He must be lying. At this rate, however, Kurapika knew that Chrollo would likely kill both him and Leorio. So, if he put his trust in Hisoka, just this once, perhaps Leorio might make it at the very least. It was all he could hope for.

Steeling himself, Kurapika pushed Hisoka over to the centre of the room until he was toe to toe with Chrollo. Then he simply pushed Hisoka to the side and threw the stake down at his feet. He felt very small, surrounded by such tall, dangerous creatures, yet he did not flinch. Instead he reached up and grabbed Chrollo by the jaw, forcing his gaze downwards. He pushed down a shudder at the cold sensation washing over his fingertips. For this to work, he suspected that he would need Chrollo’s undivided attention. Chrollo blinked at him for a moment, thoroughly taken aback. The other vampires in the room visibly started, only to be stopped by Chrollo raising his hand to placate them. There was an almost expectant gleam in Chrollo’s eyes.

With lead on his tongue, Kurapika forced himself to speak: “Here’s my bargain – you leave Leorio alone and ensure no harm comes to him, and I will surrender myself willingly over to you. I won’t fight you anymore. This ends _now.”_

This was it. Either both Leorio and Kurapika would die down here, along with a lot of vampires (or as many as Kurapika could stake), or Chrollo would accept his offer and Leorio would live and Kurapika would die. It was a zero-sum game as far as Kurapika was concerned. It wasn’t like he wanted to die, but he was far too involved now to have a choice in the matter.

“You would _willingly_ give yourself to me, in exchange for your friend’s safety?” Chrollo said the words slowly, as if he was having trouble processing Kurapika’s meaning.

Kurapika nodded, knowing he had as good as signed his own death warrant. It was not a good feeling in the slightest.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Chrollo slowly removed Kurapika’s hand from his jaw and wrapped a hand around his wrist instead, keeping a tight hold of Kurapika like the unforgiving metal of a pair of shackles. He looked at the blonde woman across the room: “Paku – would you be so kind as to escort our guest, Mr. Paladiknight back to his house? Keep an eye on him, but make sure no harm comes to him either. You won’t need an invitation – there’s not much of his house left.”

A great relief washed over Kurapika. If Chrollo’s word was good, then Leorio would be safe. He was in no way happy at the prospect of death, but at least Leorio would be okay.

“As for everyone else, please return to the warehouse. Change of plans, it looks like we won’t be moving tonight after all.”

Kurapika blinked. Okay, so he was not going to be a big family buffet then. Just dinner for one. That seemed less bad, but Chrollo was very angry, so maybe he would have preferred being eaten by a bunch of neutral parties (or at least Hisoka seemed relatively neutral) to being torn apart by one angry vampire. Something told him that Chrollo would not allow him to die painlessly.

As the other vampires filed out of the basement and up the stairs, Kurapika locked eyes with Hisoka, who looked thoroughly disappointed at being kicked out of the room. As he left, he eyed Kurapika with an almost cheeky gleam in his eye. Ah, yes, he was about to become Chrollo’s microwave dinner, which must have seemed funny to Hisoka. But Kurapika was having trouble finding any humour in the situation.

Kurapika never imagined that he would die in some psychopath’s basement. Sure, he had read _The Silence of the Lambs_ and watched the film too, but he’d never imagined that he would get murdered in a basement and eaten by a vampiric looking discount-Buffalo Bill.

When he mustered the strength to look his would-be murderer in the eye, Kurapika flinched. Chrollo was _smiling_ at him. There was a soft look pulling at his lips, dimpling his cheeks, and melting the icy depths of his eyes into puddles of goo. Kurapika had never seen a man look at a hamburger like _that_ , but hey, there was always a first time, right?

With that same far-off look in his eye, Chrollo pulled Kurapika up the stairs.

Huh. So, he was going to be eaten in the dining room. That seemed a little more appropriate than the basement. But no less terrifying. He had seen _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_. Dining rooms were no laughing matter.

“Do you eat with a knife and fork?” Kurapika asked hoarsely, unable to resist snarking back in his last moments on this earth. His parents (may they rest in peace) would be proud. The house was deadly silent with all the other vampires having left at Chrollo’s request - or rather his thinly veiled demand - so, maybe Kurapika just wanted to fill the uneasy silence with a noise that wasn’t his own death throes.

With an amused look, Chrollo shook his head, “No.”

They passed through the dining room and then, to Kurapika’s surprise, he was being tugged up the stairs to the second floor. No cutlery? Ah. Chrollo must be a messy eater. What better place to eat than in the ensuite bathroom? It didn’t seem hygienic, but the tiles would ensure an easy clean-up. And Kurapika had read and watched _The Shining_ , so he knew that bathrooms were scary as fuck too. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he’d prefer getting murdered by a demonic hotel or by Chrollo. Neither option seemed appealing.

They passed the spare room and the study, before Kurapika was being ushered into Chrollo’s room. For a moment they paused as Chrollo removed the garlic necklace from Kurapika’s neck with an amused smile, before unzipping the flak jacket and peeling it away completely, along with the rest of Kurapika’s make-shift armor.

“Cute jacket.” Chrollo mused, depositing it on top of the dresser. “Though I’m not sure it would have done you much good.”

Kurapika did not have the will, nor the patience left to reply. Why should he deign this murderer’s quips with a response? He was about to die.

But instead of being shoved into the bathroom, he found himself being gently thrown on Chrollo’s bed. Well, this was unexpected. He was going to die in a four-poster bed. Which he’d always imagined, in the vein of being eighty-years old with his withered hands being held by his beautiful children and great-grandchildren who would all be weeping desperately as he passed away peacefully in his sleep. But this was definitely not like that.

Then Chrollo, sans his great-black coat, was sitting with the headrest at his back, pulling Kurapika across his lap so that his head was resting against his chest and his neck was exposed. Thoughts of protecting Leorio flooded Kurapika’s brain, which was the only thing keeping him from sitting up and making a run for it. Chrollo leaned in, to press his lips softly to Kurapika’s neck. It was a cruel touch, and Kurapika barely stopped himself from screaming. This was it. The end.

There was a sudden, searing pain at his neck, followed by the oddest feeling as his blood was being steadily drained through his jugular. The pain was like fire shooting through his veins and Kurapika whimpered. Like the flick of a switch his survival instinct kicked in, and he pushed feebly back against Chrollo’s weight with what little strength he could muster. But Chrollo did not budge. All Kurapika could do was squirm, utterly trapped in death’s embrace as his life was drained from his body. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Chrollo pulled back. There was blood, ruby red and sticky dripping from his mouth and jaw. Distantly, Kurapika felt the drops fall over his chest and lap. So, he had been right. Messy eater.

Chrollo’s eyes fluttered shut and his pale fingers came up to caress Kurapika’s face: “You taste _divine.”_

How callous, to get in one final jab. Kurapika had been right then, about Chrollo dragging this whole affair out. How long would it take him to die? He could only wonder. At least the pain had faded, replaced instead with an overhanging cloud of drowsiness. It was a bitter comfort.

Then Chrollo did something very strange. He bit his own hand. With one tooth, he tore open the skin on his thumb and smeared the black blood around his mouth and on his tongue. Kurapika blinked wearily at him, the faintest amount of confusion worrying at his brow. Stranger and stranger.

He was left speechless when Chrollo’s bloodied mouth collided against his, the rich taste of aged copper and what he could only imagine was ash filling his mouth as Chrollo’s tongue pushed past his teeth. Kurapika kicked out at nothing, only to be completely overwhelmed by the full weight of Chrollo on top of him as he was pushed back against the bedspread. It was the best and worst kiss that he had ever had. Best because Chrollo was doing things with his tongue that were frankly illegal. Worst, because it was the kiss of death and Kurapika was still waiting for his throat to be torn out after Chrollo had gotten this weird kink out of his system.

But Chrollo did not stop. His hands made quick work of Kurapika’s white button-up, which was promptly thrown across the room. The cool air washed over his skin, followed by an icy hand trailing his sternum and circling his bellybutton. Goosepimples erupted on his chest and Kurapika shivered. He wrenched his jaw to the side, a final defiance in the face of Chrollo’s strange kiss.

Chrollo adjusted his weight over Kurapika’s hips and frowned at him, “You said _willingly,_ Kurapika. I will uphold my end of the deal, but only if you do the same.”

“You eat very slowly.” Kurapika bit out, his hands balling into fists beside his head.

Chrollo gave him an odd look, “Sometimes. Nevertheless, you need to behave.”

Kurapika nodded shakily. If Leorio was going to survive, he would just have to put up with this sadistic joke. He was going to die soon anyway – he had no pride left to defend. His eyes squeezed shut as Chrollo closed the distance between them again, torn between enjoying the tender press of his lips and screaming because of the blood dripping from his neck. Then there were fingers tangling in his hair, brushing against his scalp and pulling gently at the strands. Mortifyingly enough, a soft noise escaped his throat and Chrollo grinned against his mouth.

Then deft fingers pushed at the waistband of his slacks, and Kurapika’s brain overloaded.

It was instantaneous. Kurapika yelped and punched Chrollo squarely in the face. It was like punching a brick wall. Stifling a scream, Kurapika nursed his throbbing hand as he scurried backwards on the bed away from the other man.

“What are you doing?!” he hissed.

Chrollo furrowed his brow, reaching for Kurapika’s wounded hand with a concern that was entirely inappropriate for a murderer: “Taking your pants off.”

_“Why?!”_

“We’re making love.”

Any thoughts in Kurapika’s brain promptly fizzled out. _What. The._ _Fuck._

“You fuck your sandwiches?”

“Pardon?”

“You do!” Kurapika said accusingly, suitably disgusted. Chrollo was not only a psychopathic murderer, but a disgusting food fucker to boot. That put the whole university student house massacre into an _entirely_ different light. _Oh, gross_. “You fuck your food and then you eat it. That’s _seriously_ messed up.”

For a long moment, Chrollo simply stared at him, his eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hairline. Then, he replied: “I never said I was going to eat you.”

“You never said you weren’t going to!” Kurapika countered, “Now, which is it?”

“I’m not going to eat you, Kurapika.” Chrollo said slowly, one hand cradling Kurapika’s bloodied jaw. “But I would very much like to fuck you. For the record, I do not have sexual relations with my food.”

“Oh.” Kurapika said, suddenly enjoying the cool touch of Chrollo’s hand on his face. The awkward fluttering in his stomach told him that Chrollo was not casting a glamour this time. No smooth vampire magic could make up for years of raw teenage angst and pent-up human sexuality. “Why?”

“Because we’re meant to be together.” Chrollo said, edging closer until he was pressed up against Kurapika once more, his icy skin setting Kurapika’s body aflame. “The turning has begun, but I would like to make the process official.”

“The turning? Process?” This all rather sounded like a cult brochure.

“You surrendered yourself to me, and I have given you my blood in acknowledgment of that.” Chrollo said, tracing over the two pin-prick wounds at Kurapika’s throat. “In addition to that, however, I have been pursuing you for a while now. Now that I have you in my grasp, I had rather hoped to make it official as _corporeally_ as possible. I thought you returned my sentiments.”

“I did at first.” Kurapika said quietly. But then things had gone off the deep end – Uvogin, Nobunaga, the library, Gon and Leorio.

“When Machi gave me your blood sample, I knew I had to move here. Rare blood like yours tastes better than any other, you see. My coven moves where the best blood stock is, to feed, and this town just happens to have an unusually high amount of it. We’ve never fed better.” Chrollo said, running a flat hand across Kurapika’s collarbones. “But then I met you, got to know you in every way I can, save for touching you myself, and my plans for you shifted accordingly. I will feed off you forever, just as you will feed from me.” 

Kurapika traced the dried blood around his mouth in realisation, “I’m going to be like you?”

Chrollo smiled, “Yes.”

“If I feed from you, I don’t have to feed off of other people, do I?” Kurapika asked hoarsely, his stomach lodging itself in his throat. He’d impale himself on a stake first, bargain be damned.

“If you like.” Chrollo said, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Kurapika’s jaw. He twisted his body to loom over Kurapika, blocking his view of the ceiling. “I’m flattered that you only want to feed from me, but you’re missing out.”

“I don’t think so.” Kurapika said, his breath stuttering as Chrollo tangled their legs together. Chrollo ignored him and connected their mouths once more. With the scent of copper heavy in the air, Kurapika’s eyes fluttered shut as his blood-drenched lips fell mercy to Chrollo’s mouth. Given to divine distraction, he disregarded the strange pulsing stemming from his throat and the increasingly sweet taste of blood on his tongue. All he could think about was Chrollo’s soft mouth pressed to his own, the slick tangle of their tongues, the painful clack of their teeth and the weight of Chrollo’s body baring down upon him.

Soft noises stemmed from his throat as Chrollo resumed his previous ministrations, quickly discarding Kurapika’s pants and unbuttoning his own shirt. The expanse of his torso made Kurapika’s mouth go dry, seeing the muscle rippling effortlessly beneath his skin. With tentative movements, Kurapika’s hands came up and for the first time of his own volition traced reverent patterns along Chrollo’s jaw, down the length of his pale neck, before tangling themselves up in his black hair. It felt strange to touch him, this powerful being who could just as easily snap him in half as kiss him.

More than that, it was difficult to believe that this being wanted him, in every way a person could. But the flurry of kisses, the nudging of limbs, and the incessant press of Chrollo’s hips against his own was certainly convincing him. With an all-consuming heat building in his belly, Kurapika’s legs fell open, and Chrollo rushed to press himself between, his cock hard and wanting and impossible to ignore. A stuttered gasp loosed from Kurapika’s lips, which was just as quickly swallowed up by Chrollo’s mouth. Desperate to chase more friction, his hips pushed up off the bed and his legs hooked around Chrollo’s hips.

They rutted against each other, weeks of pent-up frustration and barely contained longing spilling out between them in a litany of breathy curses and the slide of sweat-slicked skin. The sound of Kurapika’s name from Chrollo’s mouth sounded less like a moan and more like a fervent prayer, repeated over and over.

_“Kurapika.”_

The heat building inside Kurapika’s stomach left him feeling horribly empty and as Chrollo ruthlessly grinded against him, he found himself whispering: “ _Please.”_

Just as Chrollo pulled back, presumably to grant his wish, his face twisted and he slapped a hand against his neck, as if squashing a mosquito.

“Ow.” Chrollo said, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on top of Kurapika.

_“Oof!”_

Suitably winded, having been crushed under the weight of a powerful vampire, Kurapika let out a wheeze as he scrambled out from under Chrollo’s considerable bulk. Any impassioned feelings were suddenly snuffed out, as he realised that Chrollo was passed out stone-cold. What on earth?!

“Pardon the intrustion!”

Kurapika looked up, slack-jawed, only to see Hisoka standing in the doorway. There was a sly grin on his face, and his golden eyes were narrowed into slits.

Not liking the look in Hisoka’s eye, he hurriedly pulled the bedsheet over his lap. He looked at Chrollo’s still form with horror: “What did you do to him?!”

“Just a little sleeping potion applied to a very carefully aimed dart.” Hisoka said, a sly grin on his face. “It’s only a mix of hawthorn and some other ingredients. He’ll be fine when he wakes up.”

To Kurapika’s bewilderment, Hisoka proceeded to pull out a sizeable burlap bag. He then went back and forth across the length of the room, upturning the contents onto the hard-wood floor. Hundreds and thousands of tiny, white grains spilled out.

Given that it was Kurapika who did the weekly shopping, and not Leorio whose hours were far too unreliable, he was able to quickly identify the bag despite Hisoka’s clawed hands covering the bright-red label.

“Rice?”

“Not for your nuptials, but congratulations.” Hisoka said, a thin smile spreading over his lips. He tossed more rice into the air with a cheery flourish as if to punctuate his statement. “This is your escape route. No vampire can resist the spread of grain.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kurapika whispered, utterly infuriated. Here he had been, carving up crucifixes with his bare hands, when he could have just thrown a bag of rice at Chrollo and gone on his merry way. “ _That actually works?”_

“Oh, yes.” Hisoka said, throwing the rice onto the floor in way that made him look remarkably like a flower girl at a wedding. “A vampire will pick up every single piece, never mind any other happenings around them.”

“Why not get a vacuum cleaner?”

“Yes, that is the one drawback to this particular plan.” Hisoka admitted, “But the vampire in question will have to think past their own desire to clean immediately, in order to think of using a vacuum. The impulse to simply pick up the rice is too strong, you see.”

“Why aren’t you picking them up?”

“I’ve prepared for this moment for a long time.” Hisoka said, pointing at the sweat beading at his forehead and the black veins bulging in his pale neck and arms. “I am not unaffected as you can see, but I am able to resist for a while.”

“One last question,” Kurapika said, “Why are you helping me?”

“I want to mess with Chrollo.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, it’s that simple.” Hisoka said. “He really, _really_ wants you. So badly that it was getting downright ridiculous. And if I can extend that pain and anguish by denying him of you, even for a short while, it is worth it. He’s so funny when he’s angry – and let me tell you, these past few weeks have been beyond my wildest dreams.”

“I lied. I have another question. Why the hell didn’t you tell me he was trying to-” Kurapika paused, his face suddenly red. “- _seduce_ me?”

Hisoka blinked, “I thought you knew?”

Kurapika glowered, “Yes, well I figured it out for myself when he started trying to take my damn pants off.”

“My apologies.” Hisoka said, not looking sorry at all. “This was more convenient for me, however.”

Convenient?! Kurapika was really beginning to dislike Hisoka, more so than he already did.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Chrollo planned to bite you tonight.” Hisoka said. “The coven needs to move constantly to feed you see, and it would be difficult travelling with a fledgling. So, to make you more comfortable, he brough his coffin in to transport you until we hit the next town over or until your turning was done. I knew it would be far too difficult to sneak you out with all the coven’s eyes on you, so I had to figure out how to get rid of them and Chrollo for a while. Hence, my plan.”

“You knew this was going to happen?”

“Of course,” Hisoka said, flashing his fangs brightly. “He’s been moping for weeks, and I knew there was no way he would wait a second longer if you simply threw yourself at him. So, he bit you in his room instead and was probably planning on keeping this little love nest going for a few days until you were ready to move.”

When Hisoka noticed Kurapika’s venomous glare, he quickly added: “Also, this plan would also ensure the safety of your friend, Leorio. Chrollo was almost certain to let him go with no complications if you made the first move. But you know that now, don’t you? So, let’s get going.”

For a moment, Kurapika was stunned into silence. It was a lot to process. Briefly, his eyes flickered to Chrollo’s unmoving form. Despite the wicked dart sticking out of his neck, he looked almost peaceful, totally dead to the world and resigned to a sleepless haze as the drugs worked their way through his system. Perhaps it was the blood loss, or Chrollo’s sweet words, but despite everything Kurapika suddenly felt… hesitant to leave him there. But as much as he wanted to stay, he knew he could not leave Leorio to an uncertain fate.

Drawing the sheet around his waist, Kurapika clambered off the bed (which, really, was just ridiculously big. Honestly).

“Hang on, where are my-”

On cue, Hisoka handed him a pair of black dress pants. Kurapika considered them for a moment before he levelled a particularly icy glare at his would-be “saviour”. These pants were his size, but NOT the pants he had been wearing originally – which had been thrown across the other side of the room in Chrollo’s haste to disrobe him. Still, they were clean, so he took them anyway.

“I did anticipate that something like this would happen-”

“I hate you.” Kurapika hissed, pettily throwing the bedsheet over Chrollo’s stupid, fat (yet still attractive) head and shimmying his way into the pants. Every movement suddenly felt sluggish, and he wondered if it was from the blood loss. There was no way to tell how much blood Chrollo had taken from him, but he suspected it was quite a bit.

Hisoka unabashedly stared at the momentarily nude young man and then shrugged, “Hmm, that’s fair.”

When he was dressed, Kurapika pushed past Hisoka towards the door, the rice crunching beneath his feet. If he picked up his kit from downstairs, maybe he could threaten that other vampire to give up Leorio. Then they could get out of here for good.

“Let’s get Leorio.”

Hisoka paused mid-step, looking surprised: “Oh, that’s not possible.”

“What?” Kurapika balked, suddenly feeling quite dizzy. The thrumming in his veins had not stopped, and only seemed to be accelerating. “I’m not leaving without him. You know what Chrollo will do to him if I leave.”

“You’re in no position to argue.” Hisoka said, a thin smile on his lips.

With a furious toss of his head, Kurapika snapped: “No, I won’t go-”

Kurapika was cut off as his knees suddenly gave out completely. He fell to the ground, barely able to keep himself up. Everything felt wrong. A cold sweat had begun to break out over his body. He shivered, and it felt like the very ground beneath him would crumble. It was like his own body was turning against him. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of it. Oh, how he longed for his nice warm bed and his books, and the laughter of his friends. Then he fell. The last thing he saw before he blacked out completely, was a pair of atrocious curled-toe purple boots closing in on him.

\--*

When Chrollo Lucilfer woke up, his thoughts immediately turned to his now husband. A curious feeling overtook him at the very thought – his _husband_. He had waited weeks and weeks and finally, he had Kurapika in his grasp. Chrollo hummed as he nestled further into the cold sheets, missing the final bouts of warmth from Kurapika’s body before the inevitable cold would settle into his skin. He could hardly wait for his own venom to pulse in Kurapika’s veins, to turn his eyes black with hunger, and elicit what he knew would be an ice-cold strength in his limbs.

But he had certainly enjoyed the rebellion of warmth while it had lasted, a final reminder that he alone had snatched the golden boy from the sun’s ever watchful glare and brought him to rest under his own shadow instead. Forever his, and his alone. To feed from, to hold, to keep close.

Speaking of, Kurapika should be in his initial stages of turning. Chrollo strained his ears. But instead of the tell-tale sound of ragged breathing or the rustling of bedsheets from the discomfort of turning, there was only silence.

Chrollo’s eyes flew open.

He was alone.

Just like that, the memories of last night came flooding back. Last night, he had been interrupted. The last thing he could remember was a dull pain to the back of his neck and Kurapika’s concerned yelp.

A scowl worked its way onto Chrollo’s face as he quickly pieced together what must have happened. Of course. Nothing about Kurapika was easy. He had sensed his opportunity and made a break for it. Only, how he had managed to knock Chrollo out when he was still in human form was puzzling in of itself… not to mention that he could not have gone very far due to the turning process. In fact, the only interruption Chrollo had expected was that of the turning starting early (which was not uncommon, some people took a few hours to start showing symptoms, others mere moments).

But any thoughts of retrieving his get-away bride were stowed as he looked upon the floor in horror. It had been quite some time since anyone had thought to use _rice_ to stop Chrollo Lucilfer in his tracks.

* * *

Chrollo Lucilfer was beyond furious.

After several hours of picking up the thousands of white pieces of rice scattered along the hardwood floor of his bedroom, he finally pushed past his obsessive movements to grab the vacuum cleaner from downstairs. When all the rice was finally tossed away and his fingers were bloodied beyond recognition from the effort, Chrollo swung the front door open so hard that it splintered as it thudded against the wall.

Time to hunt Kurapika down.

He hoisted up his black umbrella to shy away from the sun’s gaze and headed out. Halfway across the front-path, he was accosted, however. Chrollo barely had time to blink as an angry twelve year-old bore down upon him, sporting a stake in a manner suspiciously reminiscent of the actor playing Van Helsing in the 50s film (in his spare time, Chrollo very much enjoyed watching and reading media centred around vampires, purely to laugh at the inaccuracies and scratch his chin in thought at the more accurate depictions).

One clawed hand shot out, and the stake connected, ripping through flesh like a knife through butter. Chrollo let out a rattling hiss and used the boy’s imagined triumph to get the upper hand, using his impaled hand to latch onto the boy.

Chrollo hoisted him up by the scruff of his neck and hissed: _“Where. Is. He.”_

“That’s my line!” Gon yelled back, throwing the most useless punch at Chrollo in his long history of getting punched by angry people (which to be fair, Gon was unaware of). It was like a light breeze brushing against his face and that was an entirely generous comparison.

“Where is Kurapika?!” Chrollo snapped, shaking the boy like a ragdoll; “I won’t ask you again!”

Unbeknownst to him, Gon had not marched up to his house alone. No, the boy had far more sense than Chrollo could imagine. Perhaps, if he had listened a bit more carefully to Kurapika during their numerous conversations over the garden fence, instead of daydreaming about sucking his blood and gorgeous di- _ahem,_ well, then he might have learned about the existence of one Killua Zoldyck.

Which is why, when young Killua Zoldyck came charging up behind Chrollo, armed to the teeth with several dangling crucifix necklaces around his neck as well as several shoddily put-together stakes hanging from a bandoleer strung across his chest, he did not notice until it was too late to stop one of said-stakes from being plunged right through his back and out through his chest.

“FUCKING SHIT-” Chrollo yelped, dropping Gon in favour of ripping the stupid splinter from his chest. The flesh around the stake hissed and bubbled, burning black. But just as soon as the damage had been done, Chrollo’s flesh began to knit itself back together – muscle, bone, and skin stubbornly fusing itself back into existence in a defiant shout against God. A vampire of his calibre, one that had lived for as long as he had and fed upon as many people as he had could not be felled by such a flimsy instrument. This was amateur hour at best. He crushed it with one hand, sending splinters flying in all directions, and turned to see Killua glaring up at him with yet another stake in his fist. Chrollo was thoroughly unimpressed: “What is this? The boy-scout brigade?”

“Where’s Kurapika, shithead?”

With rage flooding hot through his dead veins, Chrollo pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a shaky breath. There were disgusting little gremlins tearing up his front-lawn, his fingers were sore from picking up far too many grains of rice, he had just been STABBED _ala_ Julius Caesar by an edgy twelve-year old, and his hot trophy husband was nowhere to be seen. This was a goddamned _nightmare._

“Okay, fine, I’ll play.” Chrollo said, giving in to the insanity that had temporarily befallen him. Given how his day was going, this might as well happen. “I have no idea where Kurapika is, and if for one moment I believe that you two don’t know where he is, then _where_ the fuck is he, exactly?”

There was an awkward pause, during which Gon and Killua exchanged looks. With a clearly put-upon confidence, they rounded on Chrollo. Gon cocked his head, confused: “You lost him?”

“NO - _ahem._ No, I did not lose him. He must have run away again.” Chrollo said, breathing heavily through his nose despite being dead and having no need for such bodily functions anymore.

“Well, he didn’t tell us about it.” Killua pointed out, still aiming the stake at Chrollo. Gon nodded furiously, armed with a stake of his own.

Chrollo paused and gathered himself. Now, if he were to suppose for all intents and purposes, that these little shits were telling the truth: then there was only one way for him to clarify their story. If Kurapika had indeed run away (which given the rice and unexplained black-out was likely), then he would have taken Leorio with him. If there was one infuriating thing about Kurapika Kurta that Chrollo could always count on, it was his depthless loyalty and dedication for his friends. It was that very weakness he had exploited to finally lure Kurapika to him, after all. If Leorio was gone, then Kurapika had run off. It was that simple.

With that Chrollo turned on his heel and made his way over to Kurapika and Leorio’s now charred excuse for a house. The first thing he noted, was that Kurapika’s car was on the drive-way. Which meant that Kurapika must have gotten a different car – probably Leorio’s – to drive away. He pushed through the front door, ignoring Gon and Killua who were tugging incessantly at his coat to prevent his escape.

“Paku?”

Pakunoda appeared, “Yes, Boss?”

“Another vampire!” Killua and Gon yelped, taking up their weapons once more. They charged at Pakunoda, who simply side-stepped them and pushed them away when they tried it again. Both boys fell back, defeated.

“Is Mr. Paladiknight here?” Chrollo asked, still ignoring the commotion.

“He’s passed out on the couch.” Pakunoda replied simply, pointing to the living room where Leorio indeed was knocked out on the blackened sofa. “Not that there’s much couch left.”

A heavy frown worked its way onto Chrollo’s face. Leorio _was_ still here. Tracking down Kurapika if he ran away with Leorio would have been simple. But this development made things all the more difficult. There was no way that Kurapika would have left without Leorio - of this, Chrollo was certain.

…unless he hadn’t left _willingly._ But who would kidnap Kurapika Kurta? Who would _dare_ lay a finger upon Chrollo Lucilfer’s property, knowing the steep price to pay for such a transgression…? Who would have the gall?

“Paku,” Chrollo began, eyes closed as he concentrated on not beating a hole into the nearest wall. He settled for pacing back and forth instead. “Where is Hisoka?”

“I would assume he was with the others at the warehouse.”

“Could you double check that for me?”

Pakunoda nodded and whipped out her smartphone, tapping at the screen idly for a good minute: “Machi says he was with the others last night, and suddenly left. He’s been gone ever since. The others corroborate her story.”

“Right.” Chrollo said, his mouth pinched into a tight line. _“Right.”_

There was almost no doubt left in his mind now. Hisoka had never followed orders correctly, much-less really liked any of them (except maybe Machi, much to her despair). Chrollo would never have anticipated a betrayal like this, but now that he thought about it Hisoka _had_ been acting odd recently: keeping odd hours, disappearing suddenly, not to mention how Kurapika had managed to ‘escape’ past him in the library yesterday and how Kurapika had managed to ‘overpower’ Hisoka and take him hostage. If there was anyone in the Troupe who would pull off something like this, it was Hisoka.

After a moment, Pakunoda frowned at her phone: “I texted Hisoka just now, but all he replied with was this weird symbol.”

“Show it to me.”

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Chrollo’s eyebrow twitched. Hisoka was laughing at them.

“Alright. That confirms it.” Chrollo said, “Tell the rest of the Troupe to track down Hisoka. He most likely has Kurapika – I want him back. Safe and sound. As for Hisoka, well, do what you want with him.”

Pakunoda looked shocked, “You lost Kurapika?”

Chrollo gave her a withering look and she fell silent, instead directing all her attention towards her phone: “I’ll tell them.”

Halting his pacing, Chrollo stopped in front of the couch and hoisted Leorio up by the scruff of his neck. The man awoke quickly, his limbs flying out in surprise, and then with murderous intent as he realised who had woken him up.

“What have you done with Kurapika?!” Leorio demanded, his face getting redder by the second; “If you’ve touched a single hair on his head, I swear I’ll-”

Chrollo glowered, “Kurapika is none of your concern. He is my property, not yours.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit!”

“You tell him, Leorio!” Gon yelled, trying to charge at Chrollo again and being held back effortlessly by Pakunoda, who was looking rather tired at this point.

“Get him!” Killua piped up, trying to dart past Pakunoda as well, only to be stopped by her iron-like strength. He heaved angrily, before collapsing against the strong hand steadied against his chest. To his disappointment and awe, it turned out that Kurapika had not been kidding about the super strength of vampires.

“He gave himself to me, _willingly_ might I add, in exchange for your freedom.” Chrollo said coldly, quickly losing all patience for the pathetic humans bothering him. “So, that does make him my property.”

“Any deal made under duress isn’t a deal at all! You’re a filth bag!” Leorio spat, “I wish I’d listened to him sooner so I could have killed you myself!”

“Careful, Leorio.” Chrollo replied, “I don’t know where Kurapika is yet. If I find out that he has run off and rendered our deal null, you will not be safe from me, wherever you go. It’s in your best interests to cooperate.”

At this point, it was more or less an empty threat. He did not think that Kurapika would have left with Hisoka willingly if it meant Leorio had been left behind. And if the boys were telling the truth, which was looking increasingly more likely, then Kurapika would have told the children he was leaving and certainly not allowed them to try to attack Chrollo by themselves. At that, Chrollo sighed wistfully. Kurapika was just so _noble_. It was cute, really.

Leorio gaped, “Wait, you lost him?!”

_“No, I did not lose him.”_ Chrollo hissed for what would undoubtedly _not_ be the last time that day. Humans were annoying. “Now get up and follow me. That was _not_ a request.”

* * *

After successfully herding all the bargaining chips into the car (with Pakunoda’s help of course – it turned out human children were quite hardy and aggressive when provoked), Chrollo started up the car and began to make his way to his warehouse. Of course, the business he owned was, in fact, a front so that he could steal nice, shiny things from horrible rich people, particularly absent-minded by-standers, museums, art galleries, and so on so forth. He did not relish the moment he would have to tell Kurapika that his real business was in fact a criminal empire, but he had already confessed to being a bloodthirsty creature of the night, so he was beginning to think the news might go down well in comparison.

With Chrollo’s laptop balanced on her knees, Pakunoda was dutifully communicating with Shalnark and the others to track down Kurapika via one of Shalnark’s self-made and secure chatrooms.

“Anything yet?” Chrollo asked, eyes half-set on the laptop screen, rather than the road. Of course, in the event they crashed, the biggest problem would be sunlight, not the impact of the road nor the bending of metal (but he was feeling just a little bit under the weather today, to put it delicately, so he was not being as careful as usual).

“I’m looking at traffic footage coming off this street from late last night to now.” Pakunoda replied, waving her hand at him dismissively as if to remind him of the issues of road-safety and the fact that whilst she and Chrollo might survive a crash, the three humans in the back were certainly not as robust. And if they died, well, it was safe to say that Kurapika would not be pleased. “Shalnark is also sorting through security camera footage from nearby houses, businesses, and so on to see if he can find anything.”

“Let me know if you find anything.”

“Don’t worry, Boss. We’ll find him.”

* * *

It was another twenty minutes before they found anything, during which Chrollo nearly ran over a pedestrian, ran no less than three red-lights, and side-swept another car, subsequently having to use glamour to convince the driver to forget the whole thing. Yes, he was in a mood.

“Boss,” Pakunoda said, not clutching the doorhandle despite her better instincts. “I think I’ve found him.”

“Show me.”

Pakunoda lifted the laptop up and awkwardly held it up to show him. The photo was blurry, but showed a black car exiting the end of his street. What was most telling however, was the fact that there was no one in the driver’s seat. It was a hard truth that every vampire had to deal with to survive: the inability to cast a reflection, which extended to video footage and photographs, or in this particular instance, traffic cameras. It must be Hisoka.

“Hey! That’s Illumi’s car!”

Chrollo turned to glare at Killua, only for his head to be pushed back again by Pakunoda in an effort to get him to obey the road rules: “What is an Illumi?”

In an impressive flurry, Killua kicked the back of Pakunoda’s seat and attempted to reach Chrollo’s face with a kick too: “None of your business!”

“You’ll find that it very much is my business-”

“Well you should have thought of that before you became a kidnapper!”

“You will tell me, or you will live to regret it!”

“Don’t touch him!” Gon barked, threatening to break the seat belt and claw out Chrollo’s eyes with his nails.

Pakunoda, blessedly, interrupted: “Hisoka sent another symbol, Boss.”

“Show it to me.”

ლ（´∀`ლ）

Those were what the others often referred to as “grabby hands”. But what was Hisoka trying to grab? Chrollo’s eyes flashed darkly. Oh. Well, it was safe to say that when Chrollo found Hisoka, there would be a bloodbath. 

“What do you suppose it means?” Pakunoda said in all seriousness, her brow furrowed. She had trouble with emojis, which was fair enough. The only reason Chrollo half understood it was because the others kept posting them all the time and would explain it to him in depth when he asked.

“It means, I am going to enjoy tearing out his throat with my bare hands.” Chrollo replied simply, fearing more than ever for Kurapika’s safety from Hisoka’s awful, awful hands. The incident with Uvo had been an accident – that much he had figured out for himself (given the awful screaming he had been woken up by and the fact that he had spotted Kurapika passed out in his own living room from the shock. Unfortunately, due to the sunlight, he had been unable to intervene). After spending his hours spying on Kurapika, peering through the windows and what not, he had been surprised to discover that Uvo had decided to emulate his boss and spy on Kurapika for the sake of his own curiosity (“Hey Boss, I’m gonna go check on your lil cute friend!”). Only it had not ended well for him, much to Chrollo’s devastation.

Then Nobunaga. That had been even worse. Chrollo had been furious of course. One, because Nobunaga should have been keeping watch, but should never have approached Kurapika. Two, because losing his friend was incredibly painful. Especially since the little green boy had been bragging about the fact that he had killed a vampire to the whole neighbourhood for days afterwards.

Given Kurapika’s track record, he was certainly prepared to kill vampires, but hadn’t actually taken one down yet. He had certainly tried to kill Chrollo (much to his amusement) but attempting something and actually managing to do it were two completely different things. And given his vulnerable state as of the moment, coupled with his overly aggressive tactics, Chrollo knew that Kurapika did not stand a chance against Hisoka. Which meant time was of the essence.

He glared into the rear-view mirror, only to catch the two gremlins whispering furiously to each other. _The little ingrates._ Finally, they stopped and turned on Chrollo, their faces cold.

“What has Hisoka got to do with it?” Killua asked, his nose in the air as if the mere act of conversing with Chrollo was giving him an aneurysm. Which if you had asked him, he would have replied that it most definitely was.

“I refuse to believe that a brat like you knows Hisoka.”

“Yeah, well, I definitely believe a low-life like you knows him!” Killua shot back, straining against his seatbelt to yell at him. “And you’d better believe that my older brother knows him!”

Chrollo made the connection, easily enough: “Ah, Illumi is a who, not a what.”

“That’s right, if somewhat debatable!” Killua said, who strongly suspected that his other family members (minus Alluka, and on good days, Kalluto perhaps) were all from another planet. “And he is engaged to Hisoka!”

The car came to a bone-shattering stop as Chrollo’s foot slammed on the brakes. Everyone in the car screamed, for different reasons. After a long moment of silence, in which Chrollo revaluated everything he held dear, he raised his head from the steering wheel with a weak expression on his face: “Pardon?”

Killua continued loudly: “Hisoka is Illumi’s fiancé. Mum and Dad are really upset about it. They got engaged on a dare at one of their stupid house parties last year. But I saw them sucking face once-”

“Okay, you can shut up.” Chrollo said, raising a hand to obliterate that mental image from his mind forever. Really, the whole notion was just gag worthy. Anyone voluntarily being intimate with _Hisoka_ was enough to put him off blood for the next century. Whoever this Illumi was, he definitely needed to rethink his life choices.

“Killua, you know that psychopath?!” Leorio sounded very concerned (and for once, Chrollo quite agreed with him).

“Yeah, like I said, he’s always hanging out at our house and painting over Milluki’s anime figurines, making Mum cry, and being a douchebag to Alluka. The entire staff want to kick his ass. I hate him too-”

For whatever reason, perhaps just plain curiosity, Chrollo found himself listening in to the little gremlin’s rant about Hisoka as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. All of it sounded like the kind of things Hisoka would be guilty of, and it would definitely explain all his recent disappearances. In fact, now that he thought about it, hadn’t it been Hisoka who had recommended Whale Island to be their home after they had outstayed their welcome in Neo-Green Life City and directed Machi to the Whale Island Hospital? Of course, Hisoka would want to move here – Whale Island was where Illumi’s family lived!

But none of this explained why Hisoka would kidnap Kurapika. Which meant their only lead was now dependant entirely on this horrible child sitting in his car.

“You there, loud child.” Chrollo said, interrupting Killua’s incessant rambling. “Contact this older brother of yours.”

“I’m sure you’d like me to do that.” Killua sneered, “But I won’t!”

Chrollo unsheathed his claws, the veins in his arms turning black: “Do it. Now. Or I’ll kill your friends.”

“Just do as he says for now, Killua.” Leorio said gently to Killua. “Right now, this is our best shot at finding Kurapika and getting him back.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Paladiknight.”

Killua gave him a miserable look and pulled out his smartphone.

“Oi, it’s me.” He grumbled into the receiver, kicking Pakunoda’s seat again.

_“Kil? Aren’t you meant to be at school?”_

The voice on the other end was deep and somewhat slow, as if the person on the other end was high as a kite. Knowing Hisoka, that was probably the most likely explanation.

“I’m skipping today.” Killua said, glaring at Chrollo pointedly. “Say, where are you?”

Illumi sounded pleasantly surprised: “ _You want to know where I am? Really?”_

“That’s why I asked.”

_“Are you sick?”_

“No!”

“ _Okay, just making sure.”_ Illumi replied. “ _I’m with an associate of mine, if you must know.”_

“Just say you’re with Hisoka!”

_“That’s what I just said isn’t it?”_

Killua grit his teeth together: “Okay, fine. Where are you guys, then?”

_“Oh, hang on a second, Kil, Hisoka is trying to tell me something-”_ There was the muffled sound of voices speaking quietly in the background. _“- Ahh. Okay. Well, Hisoka said I shouldn’t tell you where I am.”_

“No! No, you listen to me. Tell me where you are!”

_“Why?”_

“Hisoka kidnapped my friend, that’s why!” Killua snapped, “And I know he’s got him there with you guys.”

_“Ah.”_ Illumi sounded disappointed. _“Okay. I thought you wanted to see me.”_

Growing impatient, Chrollo scowled and loudly whispered to Killua: “Tell him what he wants to hear!”

“A-and I miss you.” Killua said, choking on the words as if they were poison. “Because I’m at school all the time I never get to see you. So, the kidnapping, just a bonus, right?”

_“Of course, Kil. You only need ask. I’m at the Whale Island-”_

The call was sharply disconnected. Chrollo glowered. Hisoka must have cut the call to keep them away. Damn him.

“What do you think, Paku?”

“I’m sending the recording through to Shalnark.” Paku said, “So hopefully we can figure out a little more. But we know one thing already – they haven’t left the Whale Island district. Not yet, at least.”

“This might provoke them to move, or Hisoka might stay put if he thinks Killua didn’t find out anything…” Chrollo murmured, “Tell the others to watch out if Hisoka tries to move them interstate – I want the bus terminals, airports, and cab services all watched carefully. It shouldn’t be too difficult to spot Hisoka of all people if he tries to go anywhere.”

“Got it.”

“Good. Let’s head back then.” Chrollo said, doing a U-Turn and heading back in the direction of his house. It seemed likely that Hisoka would not be anywhere close to the warehouse, so then it would be better to just head back towards the centre of town. He could coordinate with the Troupe long distance, no problem, until Shalnark found something. Otherwise, they would be back to square one.

They only got so far down the road, however, before the human gremlins decided to kick up a fuss, yet again. Killua leaned over to whisper very loudly into Gon’s ear: “Hey, Gon, are vampires meant to look like dead fish?”

Gon grinned: “What do you reckon, an angler or a blobfish?”

There was a round of high-pitched giggling from both boys, followed by more obnoxious whispering and devastating insults. A muscle in Chrollo’s cheek twitched but he stalwartly kept his eyes on the road. In the back of his mind, he debated the value of keeping the kids alive, but upon thinking of Kurapika’s reaction, decided to let them live. At least for now. They could debate it later.

“Left or right, Paku?”

“Take the left.”

“Got it.”

For a while, there was a blissful silence, broken up by the occasional bickering in the backseat and Chrollo’s resulting glare. But if a never-ending eternity of death and blood had taught him anything, it was that all good things must come to an end.

“I’m hungry.” Gon whined, hugging his knees sadly.

Killua tugged Leorio’s sleeve: “Leorio, can we get McDonald’s?”

Leorio shifted uncomfortably, “Uhh, I don’t think that’s really-”

“We are _not_ stopping.” Chrollo bit out, giving all three of them a pointed look through the rear-view mirror, which of course none of them saw. But it did make him feel a bit better anyway.

“Actually, Mr. Paladiknight hasn’t eaten anything for quite a while now, Boss. It’s been over ten hours since we took him in.” Pakunoda pointed out with a concerned look, “Humans aren’t like us, he could collapse or worse if we aren’t careful. I don’t think your young beau would be very understanding of that this soon after your nuptials.”

Chrollo sighed. As usual, Pakunoda had a point. So, in the interest of promoting a happy married life by not prematurely murdering his beloved’s friends, he pulled into the nearest McDonald’s drive-through, resulting in a round of raucous cheering from the backseat (of which, Leorio did not join in).

“I want one of everything.” Killua declared from the backseat, with all the greed of a conqueror staring out onto uncharted land. Defying all possibility, Chrollo’s dead heart shrunk a size in his chest – the result of having been so utterly outmatched by a twelve-year-old.

Gon’s eyes widened, struck once again by the pure ingenuity and brilliance of his best friend: “Yeah, one of everything!”

“That’s not happening.”

Cries of outrage blared from the backseat, deafening all three adults (of which poor Leorio got the worst damage).

“You’re ancient!” Killua sneered, leaning forwards in his seat. “It’s not like you can’t afford it, you grave-robber!”

“He spent all his money kidnapping Kurapika, the skeezebag!” Gon chimed in, “He’s probably broke now!”

“Two happy-meals.” Chrollo bit out: “That is what you two are getting. And I’m going to tell them to leave out the toys.”

“We’re twelve, not five!” Killua retorted, though he was secretly disappointed by this devastating turn of events. 

“Leorio, what do you want?” Chrollo continued, ignoring the two gremlins stinking up his nice car.

Leorio, who was infinitely more worried about his best friend Kurapika and saving him from a horde of blood-sucking vermin than the emptiness in his own stomach, wrinkled his nose in distaste: “You know, I’ve rather lost my appetite.”

Chrollo’s nostrils flared: “You _will_ eat something, even if I have to force it down your weak little throat.”

Leorio glared at him and kicked the back of his seat savagely (to his credit, if it were anyone else sitting in that seat, it would have hurt. As it was, Chrollo did not feel it at all.). Taking in a deep, calming breath, Chrollo pulled up to the first drive-through window. Pakunoda handed him one of his many (stolen) credit cards: “Fries, then.”

* * *

While anxiety and fear seemed to make Killua and Gon hungrier than ever (leaving nothing left of their meals), Leorio barely managed to push one greasy fry past his lips. All three of them, however, were feeling more than ever a sense of increasing worry and uneasiness for their missing friend, and a combined hostility that could have levelled a small country towards the demon masquerading as a human in the driver’s seat of the car. It was emanating off them in waves, and if Chrollo was a lesser being, he might have flinched. As it was, he could not have cared less.

No, he was more concerned with Kurapika’s whereabouts and how exactly he should murder Hisoka. And sitting here in the parking lot, locked in the car with three hideous humans was not boding well for his mental state. Every minute wasted was a minute where Kurapika was turning without Chrollo there to guide him and watch-over him for his own safety. Much worse, every minute wasted was a minute in which Hisoka could do all kinds of damage.

So, when Pakunoda finally got an update from Shalnark, Chrollo openly sighed with relief.

“Okay, Shalnark cross-referenced the background noises and chatter. The person Illumi was talking to is definitely Hisoka and judging by the background noise – they are in a busy establishment. There’s lots of people and lots of manufactured noise similar to pachinko machines. Illumi said the Whale Island, before he was cut off, so perhaps he was talking about the Whale Island Casino?”

A coincidence, perhaps, considering he had been there just yesterday chasing after Kurapika. But it was a prime location to hide – especially if you were trying to hide a fledgling vampire.

“If they were in the casino, they wouldn’t need to worry about daylight.” Chrollo murmured. “And there’s a hotel attached. Kurapika is turning, so they would need a quiet space, isolated from others for him to change without attracting attention – so they probably booked a room too.”

“The Whale Island Casino is near the pier on the other side of town, Boss. We’re a little way out, but we can make it, hopefully before Hisoka thinks to move.”

“Get the troupe monitoring all transit bays around the Whale Island Casino. If Hisoka tries to get away, I want to know about it. If they see Hisoka, tell them report back and to not interact. I don’t want to scare him off before we get a chance to retrieve Kurapika.”

“On it.” Pakunoda said, her fingers flying across the keys of the laptop at breakneck speed.

“Let’s get going then.”

With a fire in his belly, Chrollo hit the gas and did a sharp U-Turn in the parking lot, much to the chagrin of passing motorists. Time to go get Kurapika.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the end, chrollo did not, in fact, get laid.
> 
> ouch.
> 
> real life pic of chrollo rn (source: bro, trust me): (๑•́₋•̩̥̀๑)


	6. Part VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the epic conclusion to the thrilling saga of sad virgin chrollo trying to Get Some only to get repeatedly cockblocked by Chads Hisoka and Leorio
> 
> Also in this Chapter:  
> Kurapika, also a sad virgin, just wants to drink his mojito in peace and maybe just pick up a dating app next time. oh, and he also must grapple with the Existential Dread of Being Practically Immortal and now 10x Hotter than Ever Before (impossible, I know) and the fact that chrollo wants to constantly body him. 
> 
> Gon and Killua Skip Out on School to Fight Bloodthirsty Vampires in every Twelve-Year Old's Dream in what will be the Peak Experience of their Life as the Sad Reality of Adulthood has not Sunk In Yet.
> 
> Illumi is here??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who has left kudos and/or commented. you have no idea how special your words and support are to me. writing this fic has been so much fun, and even better to get to share it with you all.   
> so sit back, relax, make that mug of coffee, tea, hot cocoa, whatever etc... and put your feet up for the Final Installment of Welcome to Fright Night!

The bright lights and loud noises of the casino were hurting Chrollo’s eyes and ears. He loved the night, but not so much the nightlife – especially the kind that plagued venues like casinos, even during the day. Not to mention the décor was atrocious. There were giant palm-trees and plants with great fronds in ugly planters scattered everywhere, clashing hideously with the multi-coloured carpeting that clearly had not been updated in twenty years, as well as neon signage which kept flickering due to broken bulbs, which had clearly not been replaced in some time. There were multiple themes, all vying for dominance and none of them particularly working. Then of course, there was the clientele – hundreds of filthy humans, and thousands of them at night-time, all stinking the place up with their poor lack of hygiene and horrible faces.

And just like yesterday, trying to find anyone in this establishment was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. How he longed for his comfortable couch back home and his endless stock of books. But he would just have to deal with the discomfort, for the moment. All of this was for Kurapika. And Chrollo would not rest until he got him back, safe and sound.

Stalking past the gaudy fountain for the third time, Chrollo marched towards the nearest pachinko hall. Leorio held Gon and Killua’s hands as he pulled them through, whilst Pakunoda followed them. Although he had expected trouble, it took far too long for them to be accosted by a staff-member, considering they had passed through several rooms of gambling tables, pokies machines, and a smoking lounge with Gon and Killua (both obviously not adults) in tow.

A security guard by the entrance of the pachinko hall finally stopped the group as they passed: “Sirs and madam, this part of the casino is off-limits for minors-”

Instantaneously, Chrollo projected his glamour and hissed at him: “I can go where I like and so can my guests.”

The man’s eyes glazed over, and he spoke again, robotically: “Of course, sir. You can go where you like and so can your guests.”

Killua and Gon exchanged shocked glances, both finding vampire abilities to be extremely cool, but conflicted by this revelation as the vampire himself was horrible. Their mutual sense of distaste settled back in soon enough as Chrollo pushed them forwards into the hall.

The pachinko hall they found themselves in was particularly crowded, filled with addicted gamblers, businesspeople, shady people, the general public, and just stragglers, packed into the hall and seated at the machines, obsessively turning the knobs and watching the silver-balls fly across the game-board like bullets being fired from a gun. Just like the other parts of the casino, it was deafeningly loud from the sirens and whistles of the pachinko machines and the disappointed groans of the patrons as they lost over and over again.

“That’s him!” Killua said, pointing to a man sitting on the other side of the room. The man was neither Hisoka nor Kurapika, which meant this must be Illumi Zoldyck.

Illumi looked nothing like his little brother. He was endlessly tall, with spindly yet muscular limbs and long black hair that reached his waist. His face was disturbingly symmetrical, and his eyes were black as coal and just as lifeless. He was perched at one of the pachinko machines, idly turning the knob to shoot the balls. All of them hit the centre target, setting off a cheery siren and the lights on the machine to flash in all colours of the rainbow. Tokens came flying out of the machine and into his waiting hands, upon which he held them up closely and peered at them curiously.

“Illumi!” Killua called, racing over to his older-brother with Chrollo and the others chasing the path blazed by his light-up Heelys. Meanwhile, Illumi spun around in his seat, not looking the slightest bit surprised to see his underage brother milling about the over-18 section of the casino, especially considering it was the middle of the day on a Friday when he should have been at school.

“Kil.” Illumi said, holding out the tokens to show him like a dog presenting its owner with a newspaper. “I won. Again.”

As usual, Killua ignored him: “Where’s Hisoka and Kurapika?”

Suddenly, Illumi realised that his little brother was not alone. He peered past him, his eyes raking over Chrollo and Pakunoda for a good long moment, paying special attention to their dark clothing and gaunt faces. His eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit, before he turned back to his brother: “Are you going through your emo phase?”

“What?!”

“I am concerned with your new friends, Kil.” Illumi said, not bothering to lower his voice when literally anyone else in his position would have. “They are clearly goths. Also, they appear to be in their late twenties, _at least_. Do I need to tell Mum and Dad about this?”

“No!” Killua snapped, “Just tell me where Hisoka is!”

“…and I see you’re still hanging out with the Freecs boy.” Illumi continued, his brow furrowing so minutely that only Killua noticed. “At least he’s your age. But why is your other babysitter here too-”

Leorio was now red in the face. It was safe to say that Chrollo was feeling similarly at this point.

“Your fiancé has kidnapped my husband.” Chrollo interrupted, grimacing as that intense gaze moved to study him once again. Zoldycks were similar, then. “So, I would greatly appreciate it if you would tell me where he has taken him.”

“Oh, you must be Hisoka’s boss.” Illumi said, counting his tokens as he put them into the basket. “Ah, my apologies. Ex-boss now. He tendered his resignation late last night, I believe.”

“Yes, when he kidnapped my husband. Where is he?” Chrollo repeated, getting more and more impatient by the minute. It seemed that being annoying was a family trait.

“He’s in the casino somewhere. I got bored of his card tricks, so I’ve been trying out this machine here. I do believe I have a knack for it-”

Chrollo cut him off: “Good for you. Where did you see him last?”

“Cut the crap!” Leorio chimed in, “Tell us where Kurapika is!”

“Your new friends are rude, Kil.” Illumi said, turning again to his little brother. “I will have to inform Mum and Dad of this disappointing development.”

“Yeah, right after I tell them you kidnapped my babysitter!”

Illumi blinked, “I had nothing to do with that.”

“You gave Hisoka your car!”

“Well, he said he was going to drop his friend off at the casino and that I should come see a human turn into a vampire in real time. It was an eye-opening experience.”

“Why are you like this?!” Killua moaned, dragging his hands down his face.

“I don’t understand. Hisoka just wanted to show me his new friend turn into a vampire. I didn’t know he was your babysitter.”

“Illumi, you’re so stupid!”

“I resent that statement.”

“Shut up, both of you!” Chrollo hissed, “Where. Is. Hisoka.”

Illumi stood up then, cradling the basket of chips to his chest. His face was devoid of emotion which, Chrollo was quickly discovering, was just his normal expression.

“I am going to cash these in.” Illumi said, “Then I am going to regroup with Hisoka for mimosas. If you wish to follow me, that is your prerogative.”

Then Illumi Zoldyck turned on his heel and marched towards the back of the room, where the cash-in desk was. Needless to say, Chrollo and the others followed after him.

After cashing in Illumi’s chips, they all weaved through the casino, following after him as he poked his head into every room, trying to catch sight of his fiancé. After striding down half a dozen pachinko and slot machine rooms, meandering down the restaurant strip, walking through the currently empty night clubs (much to Killua and Gon’s disgust), and interrupting the live-shows, including a terrible magician and a rock-band that was trying way too hard, they finally came to a stop outside the hotel entrance in the middle of the casino. At this point, Chrollo Lucilfer was very, very angry and not at all amused.

“Hisoka got a room to keep Kurapika in to transform safely, so he might have come back here.” Illumi explained, heading into the hotel lobby.

As they followed him to the elevators, Pakunoda placed a hand on Chrollo’s shoulder, “We have all the entrances to the casino complex under watch, Boss. If Hisoka tries to get out now, we’ll know.”

Chrollo nodded tersely. They all piled into the hotel elevator and Illumi pressed his key-card to the elevator card-reader. It was an uncomfortable ride, with all of them pressed into the confined space, with Leorio, Gon, and Killua openly glaring at Chrollo, Pakunoda, and Illumi, who simply stared back disinterestedly. Luckily, the ride was blessedly short. They came to a stop on the fourth floor and all clambered out. Illumi led them to room 404 and knocked once, before using the key-card. They all rushed in, Chrollo pushing past first much to Illumi’s annoyance, only to find the room was empty.

Illumi shrugged, “Well, he’s not here.”

“Then, where is he?!” Chrollo hissed, pulling open the drawers, flinging back the bedsheets, and throwing back the curtains, as if Kurapika was still hiding somewhere in the room.

“Ah, he left a note.” Illumi said, picking up the hotel-issue note-pad off the table in the centre of the room. Chrollo proceeded to snatch it from him:

_At the pool. Mimosas!_

_⭐️-_-_ _💧_

Once again struck by Hisoka’s awful use of emojis and smiley faces (even on paper), Chrollo sneered at the note: “Is there a pool here?”

“It’s downstairs.” Illumi said, taking the note back somewhat possessively. Weirdo.

Chrollo did not wait. With his coat billowing out behind him, he raced back to the elevators with the rest of the group exchanging glances before they too followed after him.

* * *

The sky was overcast, which explained why Hisoka was willingly standing outdoors (albeit under a shade-cloth). The hotel pool was nearly empty of guests, save for Hisoka who was standing by the bar doing elaborate card tricks for his own amusement. There were a few other patrons reclining on the deckchairs and hanging around the bar (some of them watching the card tricks, which were pretty cool to be fair), but that was it.

Chrollo zeroed in on Hisoka and stalked over in his direction, rage overcoming his features to the point where his face was utterly blank. Somehow, Illumi got there first.

“Hisoka.” Illumi said, eyeing the drink in Hisoka’s hand with a great deal of interest. “Your friends want to talk to you. They’ve been following me for ages. My brother is here too. You better not have dragged him into something.”

Instead of responding, Hisoka took a swig of his drink. For a long moment, he swirled the liquid around in his mouth. He made a face. Rather than being unnerved by the fact that Chrollo had shown up with murder in his eyes, he looked far more upset about his drink.

“The bartender said this was a Bloody Mary, but it has no blood in it whatsoever.” Hisoka said, sniffing the liquid as if to make sure.

Illumi took it off his hands and took a swig, nodding in confirmation: “You’re right.”

Being human, Illumi proceeded to take another sip, not bothered by the lack of blood in his cocktail. Watching on in mortified silence, Chrollo was stunned by the overwhelming lack of grey matter activity in the room. Judging by Pakunoda and Leorio’s expressions, they were feeling similarly.

Having had enough of Hisoka’s nonsense, Chrollo seized him by the collar: “Where is Kurapika?”

“He’s sitting over there by the pool.” Hisoka said simply, pointing over by the deckchairs. “See, I got him a mojito and everything.”

Chrollo turned his head in the direction Hisoka was pointing. Indeed, there was Kurapika splayed out on a deck-chair not unlike a corpse on a slab, only Hisoka had been thoughtful enough (which was honestly surprising) to dress him up with a great big sunhat and a pair of black shades to shield his face from the sun, and confusingly, dressed him in a three-piece suit that was hugging Kurapika in ALL the right places. As to where Hisoka had sourced such a nice suit in Kurapika’s exact size, at what must have been such short notice, Chrollo did not want to know. Much less that Hisoka must have put him in it himself. _Oh, there was going to be hell to pay…_

“Enough games, Hisoka.” Chrollo said coldly, “Give me Kurapika. _Now.”_

“He’s right over there, but he’s taking a nap.” Hisoka said, rolling his eyes as if Chrollo was being the insensitive one. “He’s a bit tired after our photo-shoot.”

Chrollo was outraged: “ _Photo-shoot?”_

“Well, Illumi wanted to see what would happen when a human turns into a vampire, so we sat down and filmed it.” Hisoka explained, “But it turns out the footage is worthless, because after a certain point, he doesn’t even show up on the camera.”

“You did all of this to film him?” Chrollo said and let go of Hisoka’s collar, shaking his head disbelievingly: “You’re a moronic piece of shit.”

“This is why I quit, you know. Such an unsupportive work environment.”

“Really, your fiancé has nothing to do with it?” Chrollo said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought that would have been incentive enough to leave.”

Illumi did not look bothered, but Hisoka clarified: “Of course, that’s partly why. We’re getting married and everyone is invited of course-”

“Okay, shut up.” Chrollo snapped, definitely set on _not_ attending any such union out of raw principle. “Why did you kidnap Kurapika?”

“I told you, to get footage.” Hisoka said, “But if you must know, the filming was just potential capital, the whole point was that Illumi wanted to see a vampire being turned. Also, stealing Kurapika away for a few hours was convenient in that it would also piss you off. It’s one of my hobbies, to make you angry.”

For a moment, Chrollo seemed to absorb this explanation. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the events of the past twenty-four hours and Hisoka’s role during that time washed over him. Then he took a step back, before calmly socking Hisoka right in the face.

The patrons of the pool screamed, save for Kurapika who was still snoring away on his deckchair. From experience working in both retail and now at a hospital, Leorio sprang into action and herded Gon and Killua away from the mayhem, lest they be hit with a glass bottle, or get in the way of a full-blown vampire brawl. Pakunoda was quick to instigate damage control, casting a powerful glamour (her specialty) over the frightened hotel and casino guests, whom she convinced to simply file out of the room and go about their business.

Hisoka went flying through the air, before landing harshly against the concrete. He stood up, only to be thrown to the ground again, buried under a flurry of brutal punches aimed at his face. He twisted out from under Chrollo’s weight and stood up, only to be sent flying again with a vicious kick to his gut. Soil and the remains of trendy plants showered down upon him as Hisoka crashed against the elevated garden bed, cracking the concrete structure.

Somehow, he found the strength to stand up again. With black blood dripping from his mangled nose, and a maniacal grin splitting his face, he whirled on Chrollo: “That’s more like it-”

That was all he managed to say before Chrollo had swiftly knocked him over the head with one of the wooden deckchairs. The heavy chair splintered as it broke over his skull, and Hisoka collapsed to the ground with his wicked eyes finally closed.

Chrollo’s chest heaved as he stood over Hisoka’s unconscious form. His gaze moved to the children, who were huddled behind the bar under Leorio’s wing, and then to Pakunoda who was standing by the bar with Illumi, both coolly detached to the violence. Despite the fact that Illumi’s fiancé was now unconscious, he did not seem bothered by this turn of events and was instead still sipping determinedly at his drink.

Lastly, Chrollo’s gaze swept to the deckchair where Kurapika was laying. He had been careful to keep the violence as far away as possible, knowing that Pakunoda would be able to handle the rest of the group, but would not be able to reach Kurapika if she were distracted with the others.

But Kurapika was not there.

Chrollo’s panic lasted all of a second, before he was being tackled into the pool. There was a great _splash_ as Chrollo went under. Pool water flooded his nostrils and the overpowering scent of chlorine went straight to his head. He surfaced quickly, coughing up water and brushing wet strands of black hair out of his eyes. And the sight that greeted him was more than welcome.

Before him, Kurapika was treading water. His skin which had previously shone like gold beneath the sun, now glowed like purest silver under the light of the moon in its vampiric form. His eyes were no longer shining slate but were now blood-red fire. He pushed the dripping golden strands of hair back out of his eyes and turned that powerful gaze his way. Chrollo’s cock gave a pitiful jump.

If he had found it difficult to tear his eyes from Kurapika when he was human, well it was all but impossible now. If Chrollo was the main character of a famous period novel (Phinks had very kindly gifted him a set of the author’s books one year, and Chrollo had devoured them readily), then Kurapika was the dashing love interest who had just emerged from a pond on his estate and most embarrassingly run into him, resulting in all sorts of swooning, sexual undertones, before eventually culminating in a chaste marriage ceremony. And Chrollo was very, very into it. Water and all.

His regency-era fantasy, however, lasted all of five seconds. Kurapika bared his teeth – _oh, no_ – and lunged. Pain erupted in Chrollo’s neck as the two tumbled backwards into the water in a tangle of limbs and sodden clothing. Blood seeped into the water, as black as ink. Just as soon as the pain had arrived, it gave way to a throbbing sense of pleasure, fiery hot and setting every inch of Chrollo’s body on fire. He threw his head back and gasped, unbothered by the blood and pool water flooding his useless lungs. This was what it meant to have a mate. Feeding became another experience entirely. He had only ever known hunger in its simplest form. _But this was_ _satiating his soul._

Coughing up pool water, Chrollo resurfaced with Kurapika latched tightly onto his neck, greedily draining his blood. Chrollo’s arms encircled him readily, pulling him tightly to himself. Despite the fact that Kurapika’s body was colder in his newfound fledgling form, Chrollo felt all too hot as Kurapika’s lean arms and legs wrapped around his torso. Feeling more lightheaded with every passing second, he crooned happily into Kurapika’s ear, encouraging him to drink as much as he desired.

Eventually, Kurapika pulled back, his chin and mouth drenched with black blood. He looked at Chrollo with horror: “What happened? Did I eat anyone?”

Ah, so he was finally awake. Now that Kurapika had eaten something, he was in full control of his faculties. It was common for fledglings to do a lot of damage before they “awoke”, so Chrollo was lucky to have found him so quickly. Not that he would have been bothered by the destruction, but he was certain that Kurapika would not have forgiven himself. He was far too noble for that, bless his heart.

“No, just me.” Chrollo said groggily, looking very self-satisfied. It was a bonus that Kurapika had decided to feed off him first – it certainly had him feeling a certain way.

“Oh.” Kurapika said, frowning thoughtfully as he used his sleeve to wipe at his mouth. “That’s good to hear.”

Then Chrollo’s hand was cradling his face, enjoying the coolness of his skin, and poking at his mouth to trace the line of his sharpened teeth. Finally, there they were. Sharp needles to match his own. His mouth felt suddenly dry, seeing the vampiric features of his husband: “How are you feeling?”

Kurapika was looking at him with wide eyes, trembling ever so slightly beneath his touch. Then his crimson gaze flickered minutely to his lips, so rapidly that Chrollo almost missed it completely. The dead blackened heart in Chrollo’s chest gave a woeful leap. As if controlled by it, he found himself leaning in, the pool water heaving around him as he closed the distance between them. Then he hovered, waiting. For once in his life, he restrained himself, wanting Kurapika to respond instead.

For a moment, Kurapika’s gaze settled on his lips and neither of them moved. Then finally, blissfully, Kurapika closed the distance completely, his blood-stained lips pressing fiercely against Chrollo’s. A moan tore up Chrollo’s throat, and his mouth fell open, only for Kurapika’s tongue to slip past his lips and trace the inside of his mouth with reverent strokes. Under the water, their limbs entwined together, with Kurapika hitching his legs further up Chrollo’s waist and his arms secured tightly around Chrollo’s neck, and Chrollo wrapping one hand behind Kurapika’s blonde head to draw him closer, and the other arm fixed around his waist and splayed across his back.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the rest of the group was standing by the edge of the pool, looking mortified and strangely fascinated by the bloody and undeniably horny reunion. With his jaw hanging open, Leorio managed to think past his shock to cover Gon and Killua’s eyes. Yikes.

“…I feel great.” Kurapika said breathily as he pulled back from the kiss, a string of blood and saliva connecting them.

Then Kurapika seemed to realise that he was floating in a pool, latched around Chrollo. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but to Chrollo’s surprise he did not pull away. Instead he seemed content to stay right where he was.

“Where are we exactly?”

“The hotel pool at the casino.”

_“Why?”_

Chrollo tilted his head in the direction where Hisoka was lying, still stone-cold to the world. Kurapika made a face.

“Hisoka? That’s right.” Kurapika mused, “He showed up… was it last night? I don’t know what day it is. Damn him.”

“It was last night.”

“That’s the last time I trust Hisoka.”

“You and me both.” Chrollo agreed, one hand stroking the back of Kurapika’s head. “It was just a stroke of luck that the Zoldyck boy led me right to him.”

To Chrollo’s disappointment, Kurapika balked, immediately disentangling himself from their embrace: “Killua’s here?!”

“Kurapika! Over here!” Killua yelled from the poolside, waving at his friend with all the energy that a twelve-year old could muster (which was astronomical and impossible to quantify). Beside him, Gon and Leorio were also being enthusiastic in their movements.

Dripping wet, with both pool water and blood, Kurapika clambered out of the pool and raced over to his friends, arms outstretched to receive them. To his relief, they all looked to be in one piece, if not utterly exhausted. Despite his frightening appearance and the fact he now had honest to god _fangs_ , Gon, Killua, and Leorio all cried out his name, before dogpiling him on the floor in a flurry of hugs and messy kisses. They sat up in a tangle of limbs, all quite content to sit there and bask in the relief of having found each other again.

“Are you guys okay?” Kurapika asked, patting Gon and Killua on the head worriedly when they all came up for air.

“We’re fine!” Gon announced, “Even if we had to put up with your jerky neighbour all day!”

“Yeah, he’s a total buzzkill!” Killua added with a scowl. “Totally not cool.”

“He bought us happy meals and left out the toys!” Gon continued, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Can we see your fangs?” Killu asked excitedly, hugging Kurapika again and cheering when Kurapika opened his mouth to show them his sharp teeth.

“Are you super-fast and strong now?” Gon asked, suddenly realising the implication that his babysitter and friend had superpowers. Which was just all around too much for his overly excitable imagination.

Kurapika laughed awkwardly, “I’m not sure. You saw me tackle Chrollo though right?”

Gon and Killua exchanged impressed looks. _Cool._

Being a bit more mature, Leorio, however, realised that there came the impending horror of eternal life. He hugged Kurapika furiously, relieved that he was safe.

“Leorio! Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that!” Leorio said, his eyes welling with tears. “Did that bastard hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Kurapika said, still hesitant to pull away from his friend, but could sense Chrollo’s growing impatience. The vampire had since got out of the pool and was standing listlessly to the side next to one of his friends (Paku – Kurapika vaguely remembered he had called her that last night), looking rather miserable with his clothes all drenched and his greasy black hair sticking flat against his head. “Listen, I’m going to be fine. You need to get Gon and Killua away safely. I can handle things here, and I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, OK?”

Leorio frowned, his glasses misting over: “Kurapika-”

“We’re going to talk this out, I promise.” Kurapika said firmly, hoping that he could quell all Leorio’s fears. “But later. You need to take care of them, okay? Their families must be worried sick.”

“They aren’t.” Killua piped up, only to be punched in the shoulder by Gon _. “Ow!_ Shit, I mean, Aunt Mito will definitely be worried-”

“Kil. We are going home. Now.” Illumi said, interrupting the touching reunion as he clasped his brother by the arm. Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika stared at the older Zoldyck, something like suspicion in their eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Killua snapped, “You traitor!”

Illumi moodily flicked his long hair, entirely because it had fallen into his eyes and not because it was a particularly eye-catching move: “Fine. I will, given today’s events, of course offer your friends a ride home and not let Hisoka into the car without tying him up first. Not in a weird way.”

Half-impressed, Killua raised an eyebrow: “And?”

Illumi almost rolled his eyes. Almost. However, his face remained shockingly impassive as usual.

“…And I will stop at a drive-through on the way. Your choice, of course.”

There was a furious round of whispering between Killua and Gon, as Leorio and Kurapika exchanged concerned looks, before Killua rounded on Illumi with an approving nod: “Better.”

“I’m going to go with them, to make sure that Gon and Killua get home safely.” Leorio said to Kurapika, hugging him one last time. The hug dragged on, but finally, reluctantly, Leorio let go of his best friend. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?”

Kurapika looked over to where Chrollo was standing. His lip was curled, and he was talking heatedly with Paku, all whilst staring unabashedly in Kurapika’s direction. Whereas his eyes were usually flat, they were now dark and fathomless, drawing him in like a moth to flame. Despite everything that had transpired, Kurapika shuddered, a swell of heat thrumming through his body.

“Positive.”

“And you promise we’ll talk tomorrow?”

“I promise.”

Leorio let out a heavy sigh, “Okay. I’m going to hold you to that.”

With that, Leorio shepherded Gon and Killua away, followed closely by Illumi who was carting an unconscious Hisoka in his arms. Pakunoda followed after them closely, clearly to keep an eye on Hisoka and ensure he didn’t cause any more mishaps.

* * *

Finally, Chrollo Lucilfer was alone with Kurapika Kurta. Despite the blood and debris floating in the pool, as well as the mess of glass, drinks, and deckchairs strewn across the concrete, they only had eyes for each other. To Chrollo’s delight, his suspicions had been correct and death suited Kurapika in every which way. Even covered in blood, pool water, and dirt, with his clothes plastered to his body and his mouth black with blood, he looked like a _dream_.

Even better, Kurapika was staring right on back, his crimson eyes half-lidded: “What now?”

“Let’s get out of here.” Chrollo replied, trying to squeeze the chlorine droplets from his leather coat like a rag. Then, with pool water gushing out of his shoes with every step, Chrollo crossed the distance between them and offered his arm to his husband. Kurapika took it.

“How would you rate the rooms here?” Chrollo asked as they strode inside, dripping water all over the hotel carpet.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t conscious for most of my time here.” Kurapika said, squeezing Chrollo’s bicep tightly, not realising his own newfound strength, and then more gently once he took note of Chrollo’s resulting wince. Ah, to be a fledgling with all the strength in the world at your fingertips.

“Well, in that case, what do you say we sample the goods?” Chrollo asked, a deep purr in his voice that was unmistakable in its implications. He flashed one of his stolen credit cards at Kurapika with a wry smile.

Kurapika nodded, matching his smile with one of his own, and let Chrollo usher him over to the reception desk. The woman at the desk seemed alarmed at their appearance but settled immediately with a quick cast of glamour on Chrollo’s end.

“How may I help you?” She slurred, her head rolling on her shoulders unnaturally as if she was not quite sure which way was up.

“Give me your best room.”

The woman quirked a brow, pleasantly surprised at this declaration: “The Honeymoon Suite?”

Chrollo’s face lit up like a Christmas tree: “How did you know?”

The woman laughed drunkenly and clapped her hands together in delight when Chrollo hugged Kurapika close. Kurapika slapped his hands away, more playful than offended. With his hands now conveniently (if not disappointingly) freed up, Chrollo was free to flash his credit card and pay for the room, before taking the offered key-card from the woman who was still smiling like her birthday had come early.

* * *

The honeymoon suite was on the top floor of the hotel, yet despite the water dripping from his body and the tiredness of the day beginning to affect him, Chrollo did not mind the longer wait in ascending to their room. As soon as the elevator doors shut behind them, Kurapika leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to Chrollo’s mouth, making his toes curl pleasantly in his sodden shoes. They kissed lazily until the elevator came to a stop, upon which Chrollo managed to disentangle himself from Kurapika’s embrace long enough to escort him down the hallway and to their room, with one hand pressed eagerly to the small of Kurapika’s back and threatening to drop lower with each passing moment.

As he opened the door, the sweet scent of roses struck him. The honeymoon suite, which was much, much bigger than the room Hisoka had gotten, was as advertised: complete with rose petals strewn on the bed (which was of a ridiculous size, but could not light a candle to Chrollo’s own), the floor, and on the dining table in the corner, and lit candles shining merrily on every flat surface, as well as the towels artfully arranged on the bed into a heart-shape. On the dining table was a bouquet of red roses and a complimentary bottle of wine jutting out of a bucket of ice, with two champagne glasses.

Chrollo did not stop to admire the arrangement, but gently ushered Kurapika into the ensuite, with one hand still pressed to his back. The bathroom was similarly decorated: there were more rose petals scattered haphazardly on the floor and dozens of tiny tea-lights arranged around the rim of the bathtub (which was shockingly large – Chrollo expected it could seat about four people at the very least). There was also a shower, complete with a tiny footstool and multiple props to hang the showerhead upon.

“No expense spared, huh?” Kurapika murmured to himself, eyes wide in his head.

“We _are_ married.”

“Funny that,” Kurapika said, raising an eyebrow; “Most people _ask_ the person they want to marry first.”

“Well, let us mark it down to an issue of cultural miscommunication and be done with it,” Chrollo said in a tone that reflected just how pleased he was with himself.

Kurapika ignored him and kicked off his black oxfords before peeling off his sodden suit jacket, followed by his white button-up and tie. A victim of habit, he folded them up despite their dripping state. Meanwhile, Chrollo’s eyes tracked his movements carefully, lingering on Kurapika’s pale shoulders and the length of his neck.

“I could get down on one knee, if you like.” Chrollo continued, the idea becoming more appealing by the second. He did have an affinity for jewellery, after all. A fat red ruby would look positively ethereal on Kurapika’s lithe hand, or perhaps just a simple band of gold.

“It’s a bit late for that now.” Kurapika replied, stepping out of his black suit-pants. There was no real bite to his voice, however. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Nonsense.” Chrollo said, eyes tracking up and down his husband’s naked body at a sinfully slow pace; “ _You_ can have whatever you like. And a shower sounds good.”

Kurapika stepped into the shower, before tossing a positively wicked smile in Chrollo’s direction: “Then by all means, join me.”

With something akin to a spring in his step, Chrollo turned the tap of the bath to full blast and began to fill the tub with hot water, before joining Kurapika in the shower. The hot spray overcame him as he sidled in beside his husband, shutting the glass door gently as he went. Chrollo tilted his head back beneath the spray as the water washed over him, heating him to his very bones. There were few luxuries in this world as simple or as pleasant as a hot shower (it was even better now, in this his moment of triumph). The hot water was in stark contrast to the frigid temperature of the pool. The company, however, was just as good.

Kurapika was busying himself with a bottle of sweet-smelling body-wash, running the soap over his arms and chest to wash away the chlorine. Chrollo held out a hand to stop him: “May I?”

A heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water filled Kurapika’s belly, and he nodded wordlessly. Chrollo took the body-wash and emptied some into his own hands, before running his hands tentatively up Kurapika’s lithe arms. To his delight, there was quite the bit of muscle mass there – which he attributed to the martial arts that Kurapika said he practiced.

“Was the rice your idea?”

Kurapika smiled, “I wish I could claim credit, but no, that was Hisoka’s doing.”

Chrollo grimaced at that but motioned for Kurapika to turn around. He poured more soap into his hands and began to massage Kurapika’s back with soothing circular motions. At that first tentative contact, Kurapika gave a noticeable start, but to Chrollo’s delight he quickly relaxed into the touch.

“Did he hurt you?” Chrollo’s hands came to a stop.

Kurapika looked up at him over his shoulder, hyperaware of how close they were standing. There was a tightness to Chrollo’s frame that had not been there before. He shook his head and Chrollo relaxed again. He motioned for Kurapika to turn around again and began to work the soap into his chest. Like his arms, Kurapika’s chest was pert from years of discipline and the way the muscle felt beneath Chrollo’s hands was doing wonders for his libido. With not the slightest bit of shame, his thumb deliberately caught on one of his nipples, making Kurapika jolt ever so slightly. Chrollo made a quick mental note of it, with the resounding determination to elicit similar reactions in the future.

Pushing down the blush rising up his neck, Kurapika peered at him curiously: “What will you do now?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“Are you going to stay here for a while longer, or are you going to leave again?”

Chrollo seemed to consider this, “Well, I have what I came for, or so to speak. I imagine I’ll think about moving soon.”

“If I am so very _disposable_ , you should have thought of that before you made me quasi-immortal.”

Kurapika’s voice had taken on a dark quality, and Chrollo shivered in delight. That was one thing he had not known about himself before, but there was always time to learn new things. No doubt he would have fun exploring this development.

“My apologies,” Chrollo said, not feeling very sorry at all. It was a simple matter of clumsy wording and not an accurate reflection of his thoughts. He would not have bonded himself to Kurapika otherwise. “As I told you before, I move about quite a bit so that the coven can feed. Unless you have any objections, I could see us packing up within the month.”

“How considerate.” Kurapika said dryly.

“Well, the coven would go on ahead of us, and we could stay as little or as long as you like.” Chrollo said, his thumb tracing slowly over the faint-indentations of teeth – his teeth - on Kurapika’s neck. It was a lovely mark, all things considered. Now permanent, given that he had bit him just before sharing their blood. “I would keep you all to myself, if I could.”

“I want to see my friends.” Kurapika declared, his chin jutting upwards and his red eyes flashing brighter than gemstones. “I won’t cut ties with them just because you felt like getting your dick wet.”

Chrollo found his jaw dropping just a little at that declaration, once again struck by how fiery Kurapika was in both spirit and mind. And how much Chrollo enjoyed it.

“And I want to finish my studies.” Kurapika continued, pulling free of Chrollo’s grip. “You can go where you want, but I’m staying here.”

“If you stay here, then so will I.” Chrollo replied simply, inwardly frowning as Kurapika took half a step back. He could fight Kurapika and force him to stay by his side if he wanted. But Pakunoda had warned him of absolutes – he had chosen to bind himself to Kurapika, and in doing so, had agreed to compromise on certain aspects of his lifestyle. Besides, he could not very well see someone as strong spirited as Kurapika putting up with anything less. “Your degree won’t take long to finish. I’ve waited longer than that for you.”

Kurapika eyed him suspiciously.

“You are mine, but I am yours too.” Chrollo continued, his hand reaching again to cup Kurapika’s neck and then slowly searching upwards to cradle his jaw. “You would be remiss to forget that.”

The hardness in Kurapika’s stare melted away. Ever so slightly, his eyes flickered downwards to trace the line of Chrollo’s mouth. If it had been anyone else, they would have missed the movement entirely, but Chrollo, with his hundreds of years of existence, was not just anyone else. So, he leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Kurapika’s forehead. It was but a small gesture, but the touch carried all of his boundless adoration and longing.

When he pulled back, Kurapika took the bottle of bodywash from him. He poured it into his hands and with a quick motion for Chrollo to turn around, began to scrub his back with clever fingers. A shiver wracked through his body as he realised just how close Kurapika was standing behind him. It was getting harder to ignore his torso brushing against his back, or the gentle press of his hands against the flat of his shoulder blades. More so the occasional brush of his cock, sadly still soft, against his ass (whereas Chrollo was half-hard and having trouble containing himself). It had been so easy to push Kurapika into the mattress only hours ago, but now Chrollo was beginning to think he would not mind the reverse treatment.

Finally, Kurapika pulled away completely to let Chrollo wash away the suds. Wordlessly, he took up the shampoo bottle and began to wash his golden hair. Standing uselessly in the spray, Chrollo watched on mesmerised as Kurapika washed away the dirt, blood, and chlorine from his head that had accumulated over the past twenty-four hours. It was a miracle that he was as clean as he was, really. The boy had gotten into a tangible fight with him in the library, escaped a burning house, suffered the perils of a casino during peak hour, broken into a vampire den, been violently seduced (though Kurapika would have described it vastly differently) and turned, kidnapped, brought back to the same filthy casino, and then thrown himself into a hotel pool. For once in his long, long life, as he stood listlessly in the shower, Chrollo paused to reflect that perhaps he could have been a bit less… _aggressive_ in his pursuit of Kurapika Kurta. Maybe things might have turned out less messy.

As it was, however, things had gotten bad before they had gotten better. And they were not out of the woods yet. Chrollo anticipated that tomorrow’s negoti- rather, c _onversation_ with Leorio would not be pleasant. Not to mention sorting out how to navigate Kurapika’s ambitions of maintaining his education and ties to his human friends.

“Chrollo?”

Kurapika was looking up at Chrollo, one eyebrow raised. Oh, whoops.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a moment.”

“I can see that.” Kurapika said, “Jenny for your thoughts?”

“It’s nothing that won’t be discussed tomorrow – but let’s leave that for tomorrow, shall we? The bath is ready.” Chrollo said, plastering a smile upon his face. The future was always unclear, so better to enjoy the now. He had gotten everything he wanted. Kurapika was here, by his side. Despite their shaky beginning, there was a bond there. Although he knew it would take Kurapika a while to really be comfortable, Chrollo was happy for now. He had waited this long, so he could wait however much longer it would take.

Kurapika blanched: “Oh no, you aren’t leaving without getting shampoo on your head.”

Chrollo stepped out of the shower to turn off the bath tap, before stepping back into the cubicle. He blinked down at his husband: “Should I be offended?”

“The only offensive thing here is the sheer quantity of grease dripping from your head.”

Chrollo wrinkled his nose at that but allowed Kurapika to work his scalp into a lather. The feeling of Kurapika’s fingers working at his scalp was downright sinful, and Chrollo closed his eyes, enjoying every second of it. When Kurapika was satisfied, they rinsed off the remaining suds and clambered into the bathtub.

The water was near scalding, but that was just how Chrollo liked it. They both hissed at the initial heat but acclimatised relatively quickly. They settled back into the tub, with Chrollo’s arm around Kurapika’s neck, and Kurapika leaning his head on Chrollo’s shoulder. The tub was large enough that they could stretch out, accommodating Chrollo’s height and nearly big enough to do laps in. For a good long while, they sat like that, enjoying each other’s closeness and the total solitude that they had finally achieved, surrounded only by the heat of the bathwater and the merry twinkling of the tea-lights.

“I never want to move again.” Chrollo mused aloud, pressing a kiss to Kurapika’s golden head.

Kurapika raised an eyebrow at him, then one of his hands slid down to clutch at one of Chrollo’s thighs, his fingers blazing a tantalising trail upwards. He feigned confusion: “Really? Never again?”

Any response died a sudden, pitiful death on the tip of Chrollo’s tongue. All he could do was stare helplessly at the ethereal young man shamelessly groping him beneath the bathwater. With one smooth movement, Kurapika swung a leg over Chrollo’s lap and straddled him, both his knees parked on either side of Chrollo’s hips. The water lapped at the sides of the bath, threatening to spill over, but Chrollo only had eyes for the beautiful creature looming over him.

The corners of Kurapika’s mouth lilted upwards: “You look ready to tear your hair out.”

“Is that so?” Chrollo murmured, feeling something akin to breathless. Everything about Kurapika was elegant: his long limbs, the softness of his face, and the gentle curve of his hips. It was all Chrollo could do not to topple him over backwards into the bath and have his way with him. But he was far too curious to see what Kurapika would do next. “How could you tell?”

Kurapika hid a laugh behind his hand, “Hisoka stopped you last night, but you have that same look in your eye now as you did then. Only more intense, perhaps. So, I imagine the interruption has taken its toll.”

“An accurate assessment.” Chrollo said, overcoming his initial surprise to rest both of his hands on Kurapika’s hips. Reverent fingers stroked him there. “Well, I’m not surprised. I married you for your brain you know.”

Slowly, Kurapika placed both his hands on Chrollo’s shoulders. The breath caught in his throat as Kurapika gave an experimental nudge forward with his hips, his cock brushing up lightly against his stomach. Now that was just unfair.

“Not for my looks? Well, I must say I’m surprised. That’s hardly shallow of you.”

“Oh, well I would be lying if I said your looks had nothing to do with it.” Chrollo teased, hands careening upwards to tickle Kurapika’s ribcage like the keys of a piano. And like an instrument, Kurapika made a sound – the gentlest gasp pealing from his throat.

“Men are pigs.” Kurapika said breathily, before leaning in to capture Chrollo’s mouth in a kiss. Like a preacher at an altar, Chrollo’s mouth fell open in worship, welcoming the sweet slide of Kurapika’s tongue against his own. He groaned into the kiss, whispering fervent prayers against Kurapika’s mouth. The hands at his shoulders tightened, one sweeping closer to his neck to clutch at inky black strands.

Chrollo responded in kind, drawing Kurapika in closer with his hands tight on his waist. Stuttering closer, he could feel Kurapika’s pretty cock resting happily against his stomach and the swell of his ass seated achingly close to his cock, the tip brushing against Kurapika’s perineum. The contact rattled Chrollo and he thrust his hips upwards, desperate to chase any contact he could.

When the kiss finally broke, Chrollo begged: “Will you let me have you?”

Kurapika pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth: “That depends. Will you let _me_ have _you?_ ”

“You already have me.”

“Then you have your answer.” Kurapika smiled, tilting his head to kiss him again. The kiss was firmer this time as Chrollo tasted the tip of Kurapika’s tongue and traced the newfound sharpness of his teeth. The taste of metal erupted on his wounded tongue and his cock twitched with interest. His husband made for one beautiful fledgling, already beyond dangerous in every which way.

As the kiss deepened, Kurapika shifted his bodyweight, one hand clutching Chrollo’s shoulder and one reaching behind his back. Slate eyes widened as Chrollo realised what it was that Kurapika was doing. He groaned and shifted his own hands to assist, greedily clasping at Kurapika’s ass. For a moment, he was happy to explore. The skin there was soft and supple against his hands and he grabbed it in handfuls, making Kurapika moan. Then, slowly, he coaxed Kurapika’s hand away and replaced it with his own. With one hand, he traced the pucker of his ass, before plunging in.

A shuddering gasp filled the air as Chrollo sunk his fingers into him. A blonde head of hair sunk against his chest as he began to piston his fingers in and out of his body, making Kurapika shudder with every thrust. The water lapped noisily around them, but they paid it no mind, too wrapped up in each other. One of Kurapika’s hands dropped from where it had been clutching tightly at Chrollo’s broad shoulders, disappearing beneath the water frothing between them. It was Chrollo’s turn to gasp as Kurapika’s fingers wrapped tightly around his cock and began to _tug_.

_“F-fuck-”_

“So, you _do_ have a filthy mouth.”

Kurapika sounded far too amused by this discovery. His palm was hot and tight, jerking him off with slow and deliberate movements that had Chrollo seeing stars in the back of his head. For weeks now he had been violently masturbating to thoughts of Kurapika, but his own hand was pitiful compared to the reality of Kurapika’s touch. Another moan escaped his lips as Kurapika’s fingers dipped further to play with his sac, rolling the skin with his fingers.

_“Kurapika.”_ He moaned, _“Please.”_

His fingers, which had forgotten all about Kurapika’s tight heat, were suddenly removed completely by Kurapika’s hand tight on his wrist. Just as a clumsy apology was on the tip of his tongue, he felt Kurapika lining himself up with his cock. His mouth fell open as Kurapika began to guide Chrollo’s cock into his ass. Inch by inch, his cock was engulfed in a tight heat until finally Kurapika was fully seated on his thighs. Chrollo’s head fell back against the rim of the bath. Wordless prayers that all sounded suspiciously like “Kurapika” babbled endlessly from his lips. 

Kurapika was all around him. Looming over him with their chests pressed together, their foreheads touching, the butterfly kiss of Kurapika’s long eyelashes against his face, the warmth of his insides sucking him in, and the tangle of their limbs in a heated embrace. The shadows cast by the tealights were dancing around the room, the lights reflecting off the steaming bath water and igniting the red fire in Kurapika’s eyes. Chrollo never wanted to move again. He wanted to stay here, in this moment.

But then Kurapika began to move. The undulating movement of his hips, rising and falling, causing the most intense friction that Chrollo had ever experienced, had him second-guessing himself. Just seconds ago was perfect, but so was this. His arms which had sunk uselessly into the bath water rose to clutch Kurapika’s hips, helping him along. They moved together, fucking slowly, then fast, experimenting as they enjoyed the overwhelming closeness of each other’s company. They had all the time in the world to enjoy each other, but in this, their first tentative encounter, they were impatient to experience everything. All the while the bath water swirled, petals and water mixing against the sides of the tub.

In the end, they came together, with Kurapika’s nails dragging a bloody trail down his chest, and Chrollo’s grip leaving behind angry black bruises on Kurapika’s waist. Spurts of white-hot come painted Kurapika’s insides, and Chrollo lowered his ruined forehead against Kurapika’s chest, head bent in worship. Then there were shaking fingers stroking his hair and a gentle pair of lips against the top of his head.

For a long while, they were hesitant to part, but as the water steadily lost its appealing temperature, they stepped out of the bathtub and left it to drain. Chrollo took the nearest towel and began to pat-dry his husband. The evidence of their lovemaking began to disappear, the bruises healing and the long claw marks knitting themselves back together. Kurapika stood there, a dazed look in his eyes as Chrollo dried his hair with towel. There was no such thing as exhaustion for their kind, or fatigue (save for the kind that developed from a lack of nutrition), so Chrollo could only assume that Kurapika was still coming to terms with his newfound long life.

When they were both dry, he ushered him into the bedroom. To his delight, a cursory search revealed there were two fluffy white bathrobes in the Manchester dresser. He put on one of the robes, before passing the other to Kurapika. The fabric was as soft as duck down against his skin. 

After throwing on his bath robe, Kurapika collapsed on the bed with the TV remote in his hand. He flipped idly through the channels, before settling on a 24-hour movie channel which happened to be playing a horror movie.

Meanwhile, Chrollo was digging through the rest of the shelves, nodding approvingly as he uncovered some tea and coffee samples, as well as a kettle (which would be just perfect tomorrow morning). He hissed as he uncovered a holy book in one of the bedside tables, and slammed the drawer shut grumpily (he had not stayed in a hotel for a while and was now remembering why). Kurapika laughed at him, and for his own interest poked the book, only to pull his hand back as the tip of his finger began to smoke dangerously. Huh.

They settled back against the bed and watched the rest of the movie, coming to the same conclusion that the book version was better, which quickly spurned an intense discussion on horror book to movie adaptations with both agreements and disagreements to be had.

Eventually, Chrollo remembered the bottle of wine. The ice was beginning to melt, but luckily the bottle was still cool. A resounding _pop_ echoed around the room as Chrollo ripped out the cork and he proceeded to pour out two glasses of the champagne.

“We can drink this?”

“Human food can only ever be consumed in miniscule amounts, lest we get sick, but wine is okay.” Chrollo said, taking a sip of the champagne. He tastefully did not bring up the night he had made dinner for Kurapika and Leorio, wanting to instead impart good memories as they began their relationship in earnest. That had been a horrible night, in that he had forced himself to eat a bit of human food (gross), but also brilliant, in that he had held Kurapika in his arms, if only for a moment.

“How about tea?”

There was something akin to anxiety in Kurapika’s expression.

Stifling a laugh, Chrollo smiled: “That’s fine too.”

Kurapika’s shoulders slumped in relief, “Oh, that’s good to hear.”

They sat back on the bed and drank the wine, enjoying the warmth of the liquor as it settled in their chests. With one finger, Kurapika traced the scar on Chrollo’s forehead. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. Chrollo’s eyes slid shut, welcoming the sense of curiosity from his husband, which could only blossom over time into trust. Whilst tonight was not the right time to share the story attached to the wound marring his forehead, he knew sharing his life with another so intimately meant that difficult questions would arise over time: an eventuality he had already prepared for in pursuing Kurapika in the first place. So, if Kurapika ever asked, he would tell. He could only hope that given time, Kurapika would feel the same way.

“It has a story, but I would not think upon such dark things tonight.” Chrollo said by ways of explanation, cradling Kurapika’s wrist and running his thumb over his silenced pulse.

Kurapika nodded, lowering his hand but not stealing away from Chrollo’s touch: “If that’s what you want.”

“Really, how can I focus on anything else when you are here before me?” Chrollo murmured, putting both wine glasses aside on the table before entangling their fingers, and enjoying the way his strong hand dwarfed Kurapika’s own. Once again, he was struck by the lithe elegance of his husband and the hidden, well-maintained strength in his body: now amplified eternally in his cursed state. Frozen forever in the body of a young man.

With a smile pulling at his lips, Kurapika leaned in and kissed him. As his eyelids slid shut, the golden fan of his eyelashes fluttered kisses of their own against Chrollo’s cheek, and Chrollo could delight in the soft press of his nose against his cheek. More than that, however, was his enjoyment of Kurapika’s mouth moving tenderly against his own and the slick slide of his tongue.

Without missing a beat, Chrollo’s hands wrapped around Kurapika’s waist and they tumbled back onto the bed, the soft comforter more than enough to cushion the fall. Then Kurapika’s clever fingers were tangled behind Chrollo’s head, threading through his black strands, still damp from the shower. At the pleasant drag against his scalp, Chrollo made a noise of contentment into the kiss. Too soon, Kurapika stopped his ministrations. Chrollo pulled back, a pout heavy on his lips, only to stop as he realised that Kurapika’s hands had dropped to Chrollo’s waist and were now pulling at the belt of his dressing-gown. The gown fell open and Kurapika pushed it off his shoulders and off to the side, his hands catching against the sharp angle of Chrollo’s collarbones.

“It’s in the way.” Kurapika huffed, running a confident hand down the length of Chrollo’s pale chest. Chrollo blinked, suddenly feeling quite light-headed.

“You make a great point.” Chrollo managed, before ripping off Kurapika’s dressing-gown with relish. With his hands on either side of Kurapika’s blonde head, he took a moment to simply _look_ , indulging in the intimacy reserved only for him. With his cock twitching with interest, he leered: lapping up the angular planes of his body, the hardy muscle in his limbs, the slender line of his neck, and the gentle curve of his hips. His eyes trailed down, and his mouth slackened in want as he took in the hard slant of Kurapika’s cock, nestled between thick blonde curls. Beautiful.

Eyes filled with ruby-fire stared back at him, practically daring him to make a move. Chrollo did not disappoint. He dipped his head to connect their mouths once more, pushing his knee up to tease gently at Kurapika’s dripping cock. A gasp loosed from Kurapika’s throat, only to be swallowed up by Chrollo’s attentive lips.

“Th-that’s hardly fair.” Kurapika murmured the moment their kiss was broken. Chrollo made a point to push his knee further, making his husband _whine_.

“Oh, what would you rather?”

With a divot between his brow, Kurapika’s hands trailed down to clutch aggressively at Chrollo’s ass, his fingers threatening to leave marks. The resulting noise from Chrollo pleasantly surprised them both.

Kurapika smirked: “What we both want.”

“I can do that.” Chrollo replied, voice hoarse.

Still relaxed from their previous coupling, Chrollo was able to push into Kurapika with ease, his cockhead breaching that sweet pucker with nary a hitch. He let out a stuttered moan as his hips bottomed out against the swell of Kurapika’s ass. Kurapika’s walls were clamped tightly around his cock, making his limbs shake with barely controlled desire. There was nothing more he wanted to do than _move_ , ruining the young man spread out beneath him. So, he did.

With one hand splayed on the small of Kurapika’s back, and the other fisted into the bedsheets beside his golden head, Chrollo fucked into his husband with renewed fervour, basking in every muffled gasp and desperate whisper of his name. Equally lascivious hands trailed up his back and clung to his shoulder blades, eager to allow Chrollo to do as he pleased. Just like that, Kurapika surrendered to his embrace. It was what Chrollo had wanted from the beginning, for Kurapika to let him worship him. And he would not forsake such an opportunity, to prove right Kurapika’s tentative trust in him. Slowly, his hand uncurled from the bedsheets to push back sweaty golden strands from Kurapika’s forehead, before caressing his temple. He leaned forwards and pressed a sacred kiss to his head. Then he dipped down, kissing the bridge of Kurapika’s nose, then on both cheeks and lastly on his mouth.

“I love you.” He whispered into the kiss, ignoring the surprised sound from his husband. He did not expect a reply, not yet. But he would continue to declare his feelings, for however long it took, even if there was never a reply. The dead heart in his chest began to soar as Kurapika’s lips pressed warmly against his own. It was answer enough for now.

Strong legs wrapped around his waist, and with his hand still pressed tightly to his back, Chrollo coaxed Kurapika closer, eager to exploit a new angle. Pleasure began to build in his gut, accelerating with every second spent pressed against Kurapika, skin to skin, limbs entangled, and breath intermingling. He felt a sharp pain on his lips, only to realise that his fangs had come out all on their own. As if sensing his intent, Kurapika let his head fall back against the pillows. The black blood in Chrollo’s veins seemed to course violently - _thump, thump, thump_ \- and he leaned down, slowly laving at Kurapika’s porcelain neck with his tongue. He paid special attention to the teeth-marks there, kissing and sucking on the skin, before tearing into his neck once more. The taste of blood – metal, rich and lustrous – erupted against his tongue and they both groaned loudly.

_“Ch-Chrollo-”_

His hips stuttered languidly, still heartily fucking into Kurapika as he fed. Of course, he was not all that hungry after draining so much blood last night, but he could not resist another taste of Kurapika’s blood: once divine as a human, now perfected with vampirism. For lack of a suitable metaphor (for what measly human words could do justice to the beauty of his husband), it was like a fine wine, developed by caring hands and aged to perfection. With decadent blood on his lips, he pulled back, watching with a morbid fascination as the mangled flesh of Kurapika’s neck began to heal, fusing together as if it were being stitched by an unseen hand.

Kurapika stared right on back at him, a teasing question in his expression: “Good?”

“Oh, I wish you knew how much.”

At the reverent note in Chrollo’s voice, Kurapika turned away with embarrassment, something of a smile fighting at his lips. Chrollo laughed and leaned in to kiss him. Kurapika’s mouth fell open and Chrollo wasted no time in dragging his tongue in fascination across the sharpness of Kurapika’s fledgling teeth, before sucking fiercely on his tongue.

“Mmmph!”

Just like that, Chrollo’s grin faded into slack-jawed want as Kurapika’s hand trailed from where he had been dragging his nails down his back, instead to grab viciously at his ass, pulling Chrollo in closer as if to keep him there, fully-seated in that tight heat.

Chrollo groaned: _“Kurapika.”_

Endlessly pleased with this turn of events, he began to set a punishing pace as he thrust into Kurapika, whose hands only gripped tighter at him. A delighted laugh loosed from Kurapika’s throat and for a moment Chrollo was stunned into silence. He recovered quickly, pounding the blunt head of his cock furiously against the sweet bundle of nerves inside Kurapika. The laughter dissolved into enraptured gasps, and Chrollo found both sounds to be equally enticing.

They continued their embrace, until finally, the wave of pleasure in Chrollo’s gut hit its peak and crashed down upon him. He gasped into Kurapika’s neck as he was spent, his fingers and toes curling as the raw heat enveloped him. Kurapika came not long afterwards, come spurting onto their stomachs as his hands clawed at Chrollo’s back. They collapsed against each other, sticky and content, where they remained for a good moment, simply enjoying the messy closeness of their afterglow.

Eventually, Chrollo pulled out and rolled onto his back, sinking against the comforter with his head empty of any thought and filled instead with a glorious blankness that was just pure pleasure. When Kurapika sat up to lean his arms on Chrollo’s chest, Chrollo smiled toothily up at him.

“I’ve never seen that expression before.” Kurapika said, resting his chin on his folded arms and peering down at Chrollo with something like amusement. “I rather think it suits you.”

“That was perfect.” Chrollo said, once again startled by the lack of words to describe his thoughts. Usually he was so eloquent, but now, under Kurapika’s spell, he was finding it more and more difficult to form a coherent sentence. “You were perfect.”

Kurapika smiled and Chrollo leaned his head upwards to kiss him again. When he pulled back, he brushed his knuckles against Kurapika’s cheek. There was no feeling in the world comparable to this. This was pure and good. Untouchable.

Everything that had happened up until this point was messy and some parts awful, but Chrollo would not change the outcome for anything. Here, with Kurapika lying beside him peacefully, totally relaxed and accepting despite the truth, despite the things that had happened along the way. Still there were many burning questions, undoubtedly on both sides, but Chrollo would only ask one more tonight. Today had been _tiring,_ after all.

“I am intensely curious – what tipped you off to my vampirism?”

Kurapika looked thoughtful, and then a little sad: “Well, there were little things here and there, but nothing truly alarmed me until I saw your friend at my house that morning.”

Chrollo himself was still having a little trouble processing the fact, but he was getting there, surely enough. He nodded slowly, “Ah. Yes, that was not a good day for me.”

With a devastating gentleness, Kurapika pressed a kiss to his forehead: “Did you want to hear the other things, or did you want to stop?”

“No, I’m fine.” Chrollo said, feeling almost choked up by the tender treatment. How was this young man real? “Please, continue.”

“Well…”

When Kurapika was done recounting his suspicions, Chrollo let out a low whistle, suitably impressed by his husband’s sharpness and bravery (or his utter lack of self-concern, something which Chrollo urgently felt the need to correct, since Kurapika had seen fit to sneak into his house, a vampire den and a sight of murder and mayhem, not once, but _twice_ ).

“Well then, in all your research, what did you find out about me?”

“I’ll just write you a list.” Kurapika replied, picking up the hotel-issue notepad and a pen from the bedside table. Chrollo settled back against the pillows as he listened to the chicken-scratch of the pen moving rapidly against the paper. Just as he was about to doze off, Kurapika handed him the completed list.

“I wasn’t able to confirm everything on there, but I did find out a few things.” Kurapika said, fiddling with the pen self-consciously. “Of course, that list I’ve written is only a summary. All my comprehensive research is on the computer at work – I managed to transfer my files onto it before you found me at the library yesterday.”

“This is a rather comprehensive list.” Chrollo murmured into Kurapika’s shoulder, suddenly realising that he was getting turned on at the prospect of Kurapika furiously researching things. An interesting development to be sure, one that he would pursue at a later date. “May I write on it?”

“Go ahead,” Kurapika said sleepily, passing him the pen before falling back against the pillows. “I have no use for it now.”

Before long a gentle touch roused him from his daydreaming, and Chrollo was waving the paper in his face, with a curious expression. Chrollo smiled: “Would you read my notes?”

“What’s the point?”

“I think you’ll enjoy them.”

Kurapika rolled his eyes, with no real annoyance, and sat up to take the list from Chrollo’s waiting hands. He peered down at the paper:

_ Quwrof’s Weaknesses _

_~~Silver [ ]~~ **this is cute.**_

_Crucifixes [O] **these hurt quite a bit, actually.**_

_Other religious symbols (?) [O] **see above.**_

_~~Wooden stake (to the heart) [ ]~~ **laughable, really. those little gremlins tried it – ask them how that went.**_

_Sunlight/UV Radiation [O] **you won’t see me outside, but I’m sure you knew that already.**_

_~~Fire [ ]~~ **you’d need a rather large amount of it.**_

_~~Holy water [ ]~~ **can confirm that this stuff is very nasty, but see above.**_

_Consecrated ground [O] **…the last time I tried to enter a church it did not end well.**_

_~~Consecrated items [ ]~~ **it depends on the item and the degree of faith of the person who blessed it.**_

_Spread of grain [O] **this is no laughing matter.**_

A snicker tickled Kurapika’s lips as he poured over Chrollo’s witty additions. But then he paused, as he realised that there was something on the list that had not been there before. He felt a soft kiss against his head and strong arms wrap around his waist, but his eyes were still stuck on the paper. A surge of love ran through his heart, unlike anything he had felt before. There, at the bottom of the list, Chrollo had written something that Kurapika would never have thought to add:

_Curarpikt [O] **very dangerous indeed and Quwrof’s biggest weakness – undoubtedly the key to his heart.**_

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we did it lads, we did it. we finally got chrollo laid.
> 
> in the true spirit of this fic, pour one out for Kurapika who had to put with all this bs for six whole chapters to save his friends and his own sanity, and now has to put up with his Hot Mall-Goth Husband for an Eternity of Hot Sex (he's actually kind of into it now).


End file.
